House of Mirrors
by sundance896
Summary: Booth and Brennan find themselves in over their heads when a dangerous man takes a special and possibly lethal interest in them. BB
1. Inappropriate Laughter

**Summary:** Booth and Brennan find themselves in over their heads when a dangerous man takes a special and possibly lethal interest in them.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters in this story unless otherwise noted.

**A/N: **This is my first story. I am not asking that you 'be nice', as many first-time posters request. I would like to hear your constructive criticisms as well as the (hopefully) praise. However, please respect me and my work. On a less serious note... I'm hoping that this will be fun for all of you who stick with it. I'll post as often as my life and creative juices allow. I have this story all planned out, but I have no idea if it's going to turn into a monster with a mind of its own or be complacent. We'll see.

Special thanks to rightersblock for encouraging me to post and for being willing to be distracted : )

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Light. Rainbows. Stars. A vast, unending, black sky. It would have been romantic if it hadn't been so incredibly artificial. The windowless club could barely contain the bouncing refractions of the strobe lights that erratically traced the forms of the young and attractive. The extensive bar was busy mixing exotic drinks and serving imported beers. A heavy concentration of the colored lighting was directed toward the adjacent stage where a talented jean-and-t-shirt-clad band was just getting the night started. Though there were a few tables downstairs, the area was mostly reserved for dancing, which was more popular after a few drinks had been downed. At each corner of the club was a spiral staircase leading up to the more relaxed atmosphere of the second floor. It overlooked the dance floor on all sides. Several well-dressed couples sat at the high tables that littered the space.

The fairly new nightspot was a regular appointment for most of the young lobbyists, politicians and business types who worked around the Mall and on the Hill. But the club was not only popular for hook-ups and a good time. Its three private conference rooms tucked away behind the second-floor bar were frequented by another side of high society—the side that involved violence and intimidation. Business was conducted quickly and laws were broken under the ignorant noses of those who helped make them. Cameras were hidden everywhere in the club, even in places that they shouldn't have been. They broadcasted the video feed to an old shipping warehouse in a decaying and forgotten section of the city. The mob knew every titillating secret of anyone that visited the club. The amount of valuable information that dangled from the loose lips of slightly intoxicated young people was amusing.

Angela Montenegro was oblivious to the high drama as she searched the crowd for a familiar face. She was sure she told him to be there at eight o'clock, but she couldn't find his curly head anywhere. Angela felt a little remorse for talking him into coming. Dr. Jack Hodgins was a wonderful man, but he fell firmly into the 'squint' category. As soon as she mentioned the club's name, he had started to babble on about some conspiracy involving the mob or something crazy. Angela had laughed at him. She shouldn't have laughed this time.

"Ange!" Angela looked up and saw him above her, waving from the second floor. She could feel her whole face break out in a foolish grin. Oh, to be in love.

"How do I get up there?"

"The stairs are over there. Hurry up, you're late." Smiling, he disappeared from her sight. Angela moved down the bar toward the stairs, unaware that interested eyes were now watching her from eight different angles. One of those pairs of eyes was associated with an unusually deep voice that now split the silence of the dim room.

"Tell me who that beautiful woman is. Tell me who she was talking to upstairs and check him out too." The room fell still again marked only by the rhythmic clicking of seven keyboards. The Voice remained hovering behind four computer screens, each containing six video blocks. The computer operators were acutely aware of his commanding presence behind them as they enlarged and minimized the camera views at his direction. A few minutes passed. Finally, The Voice turned to check the progress of his researchers. One of them stood.

"Well?"

"Angela Montenegro and Dr. Jack Hodgins. She's an artist and he's an entomologist. Works at the Jeffersonian Institute."

"Who does she work with there?"

"Dr. Camille Saroyan is her superior. She works directly under a Dr. Temperance Brennan."

"That name sounds familiar." The keyboards continued to click.

"Brennan is in direct contact with the FBI on most of her cases. Special Agent Seeley Booth is her liaison."

"Booth. I am very familiar with _that_ name."

"Would you like us to pursue this lead, sir?" The question went unheeded. The silence was heavy and the room seemed to shrink. "Sir?"

"Yes." All of the men in the room felt the release and began to breathe again. "I want pictures, schedules, audio, past cases. I want to know everything about Booth. _Everything_." The keyboards started up again with a new determination.

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Please let me know what ya think! 


	2. Sudoku and Silence

**A/N: **Thank you to those who reviewed. Ya made me feel like whipping out another chapter. Again, thanks to rightersblock for beta...ing (not sure if that's a word)

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Special Agent Seeley Booth loved cars. Some of his fondest memories involved his dad and a piece-of-junk car. They would spend entire weekends covered in grease and living on nothing but sandwiches and laughter. It was a lot of work fixing up those old cars, but the pride and satisfaction he felt when he heard the engine revved up was indescribable. Booth was fiercely dedicated to his job but often longed for some free time and a visit to a junkyard. As much as he loved the thrill of cars and driving, he had never had much luck with conversations that took place in his cars. His father had given him the painful, but inevitable 'talk' in their first fixer-upper at the age of eleven. That magical first serious girlfriend had dumped him in that same car for his best friend. Rebecca had presented him with custody papers in a car. The list went on and on.

And then there was Bones. Yes, he and Dr. Temperance Brennan had access to a colorful inventory of car conversations. The inside of Booth's government-issue SUV had heard many a bizarre conversation. From talk of cannibals, the exchanging of relationship advice, both rational and… not, to the unending debate of the existence of God; they were all there. Sometimes, though, they branched away from their stock conversations and came up with something new. Arguing about being lost was something new.

"Booth, all of these dirt roads look the same. How do you _know_? You don't do you? We're lost." Brennan removed her sunglasses and set them on the dashboard.

"No we're not, we haven't been driving long enough to be lost."

"It doesn't take very long to get lost." Now she was raking her fingers through her hair and collecting it on top of her head. Booth was to feel a little warm himself. Booth watched as she twisted the hair band around her hair, leaving it in a messy tangle of auburn waves. Then he realized that he'd just missed his turn. How did he let her distract him like this? Booth whipped the car around and headed back in the opposite direction.

"I knew we were lost." Bones put her sunglasses back on and looked at him triumphantly.

"We're _not_ lost. I just missed the… Bones, why don't you work on that tic-tac-toe looking thing with the numbers?"

"It's called Sudoku. The origins of the puzzle-game are European and American, though the Japanese name was adopted. An eighteenth century mathematician, Euler, who you've heard of perhaps…"

"You know what… Bones… why don't you just look out the window?" The not-so-subtle request for silence earned him a glare, which he studiously ignored. With an exasperated sigh, Brennan turned and watched the slow marquee of trees and fields. It was a beautiful day. The scenery was mottled with shadows from the clouds that graced the clear blue sky. The afternoon sun had warmed the window and Brennan found herself resting her forehead against the glass. The peace of the country outside settled over them in the form of a comfortable silence.

Ten minutes had passed and Booth glanced at his partner. He had to admit that all that crap about Bones 'being one of the guys' had been a total load. Sometimes he didn't think before he let the words come out. Looking at her now, Booth couldn't help but to appreciate her beauty. Her head was resting against the window and she had closed her eyes. It was the most unguarded and relaxed he had seen her in a long time. The sun streamed in on her side of the car and caressed soft features.

Booth reached to turn on the radio and found a station playing some classical guitar music, perfect for a drive in the country. He needed this. Even if they were on their way to a crime scene, for now he was able to breathe a little and feel that he carried no responsibilities. Booth was even more appreciative of the time when he considered that Bones seem to have the same need. To give her this time was the best thing he'd done for her in a while.

The sharp sound of his cell phone assaulted the calm and broke Booth from his reverie. Bones jerked upright with a gentle gasp. Casting an apologetic glance in her direction, Booth flipped open the phone with slightly more force than necessary.

"Booth." The tone of his voice was not welcoming. "You've got to be kidding me… alright… just make sure that the paperwork gets done so this doesn't happen again." Booth ended the call and met the gaze of a curious forensic anthropologist.

"What happened?" Booth was turning the SUV around once again to start back towards the city.

"The guys out there just confirmed that the remains found belong to an old, unmarked graveyard. They don't think there's any reason to investigate."

"It would still be interesting to study them—find out what kind of lives they led, maybe even identify what family owned the cemetery. It could prove to be very valuable information for certain people." Brennan had removed her sunglasses once again and was twirling them thoughtfully.

"No, Bones. You already have too much to do. There's no time for play."

"So says the man who has no objections to ogling at me while he gets us lost. It could have been a legitimate crime scene." Booth was left speechless. In the past, he had doubted that her blunt observations proceeded from true social ignorance because he had never known a woman to be so… so…. clueless. Bones never ceased to amaze him.

"I was not ogling. I was thinking."

"About me." God, she was relentless.

"About how relaxed you looked." A tortured expression wiped away her smug smile and turned away from him again. "Bones? You ok?" Booth reached over and tentatively touched her shoulder.

"I'm fine." Brennan sighed and let her hand fall against the window. "I'm just tired, that's all."

"Well, sorry all you got to do today was drive around with me."

The winter sun had been down for about an hour by the time Booth pulled into the parking lot of the Jeffersonian Institute. The air had cooled rapidly and it was now rather frosty outside. Brennan glanced up from her blackberry and found that most of the Institute had gone home for the night. She realized it wasn't Booth's fault, but she was slightly annoyed at the wasted day. There was a lot of work to be done on a new exhibit for the museum. The project was already a little behind schedule as it was. Brennan was collecting her things as Booth swung around to employee entrance. She felt Booth looking at her as the car rolled to a stop.

"You're not planning on working tonight, are you?"

"I have to catch up on what I missed today."

"Oh come on, Bones." Booth waggled his eyebrows comically and pasted on a goofy grin. "Live a little! Angela and Jack are going to some club tonight. You should go."

"Why don't you? Angela called you." Brennan shoved her last file into her bag and opened the door.

"That's because she knew I would invite you. If she'd called you…"

"Booth, I have to work. I have to." With that, she stepped out of the car. Brennan moved to close the door, then hesitated. "Oh, I really enjoyed driving around with you all day." The door slammed and Temperance Brennan disappeared inside her self-prescribed prison. Had Booth known the hidden dangers inside, he would have refused to leave her.

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A good review is better to me than a flying kiwi bird. 


	3. Sucker Punch

**A/N: **Thanks again to all who reviewed. You guys really make me want to write more. For my dear friends who failed to realize that kiwi birds don't have wings... I'm telling you now that they can't fly because they don't have wings. Thus, a flying kiwi bird would be pretty amazing. Oh, I forgot to mention earlier that I would like to avoid the whole Booth/Cam fiasco, as there is just no room to deal with it in this story. So pretend it never happened, which I'm sure you all are willing to do. Cam will not be making very many appearances.

Of course, thanks to rightersblock for being my beta. If you want some cool stories, go read her completed story, The Body at the Beach or her current work in progress, White Noise. She's a great writer.

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The Jeffersonian Institute was not very inviting to late workers. Most of the lights were turned off, but a few were left on, casting an eerie glow over the lab. There were usually more people there at the relatively early hour of seven o'clock. It was a Friday night though. Some of the scientists did have social lives, despite the example set by one Temperance Brennan 

Brennan entered the deserted lab with the confidence of one who is accustomed to being alone. Her keys jangled loudly in the silence as she searched for the key to her office. The door swung open soundlessly. Flicking on a lamp in the corner, Brennan deposited her things on one of the couches and closed the blinds. She moved to her desk and sank down into the comfortable leather chair.

There were four new files stacked neatly on her desk. A blue post-it was stuck to the top one drawing her attention to some minute detail within and signed by her assistant, Zach Addy. Sighing deeply, Brennan pushed the files to the corner of her desk and turned on the computer. When she told Booth she needed to work, she meant that she needed some emotional release. So Brennan pulled up her latest work and proceeded to immerse herself in her own imagination. It had been a few months since she'd felt any pull to sit down and write. Brennan wasn't sure of the significance of the observation and wasn't quite willing to spare a moment to think about it.

Her concentration was short-lived, however, when she found her mind wandering back over her day. The drive with Booth had been so beautiful, despite their occasional bickering. Brennan liked arguing with him. In a strange way, she felt profoundly alive when she was they were sparring. The days that she didn't see him, she found herself picking fights with everyone around her, trying to evoke the same emotions that Booth did. Sometimes, she felt that all she needed to be happy was a simple argument with Booth.

Brennan turned back to the half-finished page. The creative drive had returned and Brennan's characters found themselves thrust into an interesting, slightly romantic situation. A voice in the back of her mind kept reassuring her that reality had no influence on the story. A contradictory voice loudly accused her of denial.

Brennan wasn't sure how long she'd been writing when she was suddenly aware of a noise coming from across the lab. After listening for a moment, she decided it was the janitor and went back to writing. But as soon as she heard a distinct scraping noise, she knew exactly what was happening. Brennan took out her cell phone and hit speed dial two. The phone rang four times and went to voicemail.

"Damn." Brennan quickly made up her mind. She yanked open the third drawer in her desk and found the small taser that she kept there. Creeping out of her office, Brennan saw that the intruder was working on the lock to Hodgins' office. She stayed as low as possible and snuck around the platform in the middle of the lab until she was about thirty feet from the door. As she neared the black shape, she took a deep breath and clutched the taser tightly. Brennan was about ten feet from the man when a noise alarmed them both. It was coming from Brennan's office where her cell phone had come to life with Booth's impeccable timing.

Brennan shrank back into the shadows, but it was too late. The man had seen her movement and was now coming towards her. Brennan stopped her retreat and took a solid stance, ready to fight. She turned on the taser and made sure the man could see it. To her disappointment, the distinct shape of a gun in his left hand could be seen in the gloom. The gun was raised.

"Are you Dr. Brennan?" The voice was cultured. Not a petty thief, Brennan concluded. She had already figured that, but now she was sure.

"What's it to you?" Brennan held her head high and spoke with a defiance she didn't quite feel.

"Everything." The man stepped closer and Brennan moved back. "I don't want to hurt you. Let me into Dr. Hodgins' office."

"Who are you?"

"A friend of his. Now let me in there. It's for his own good, and yours too. Just trust me."

"Trust you? You're pointing a damn gun at me!"

"Just open it and you can go." There was a tone of frustration, but also one of pleading, which caught Brennan off-guard.

"No."

"Temperance." It was clearly a warning, but something was struck deep in her soul at the way he said her name. There were a few seconds of silence during which an obscure part of Brennan's memory made a profound leap.

"Dad?" Even in the dimness, Brennan could see his eyes widen. His mouth opened and closed several times then set itself into a determined line.

"Temperance, give me the keys."

"What are you doing?" Her voice was breathy and Brennan felt she was dreaming. There was no way this could be happening. The man suddenly lost his patience. He rushed at her, but she made no move to avoid him. Her convoluted thoughts and feelings only allowed her to watch as the butt of the gun came crashing down on the top of her skull.

"I'm sorry, Tempe." It was the last thing Brennan heard before unconsciousness carried her back to the wonderful peace she had experienced while driving with Booth only a few hours before.

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Sorry about the cliffhanger. Sorry. Please don't let it stop you from reviewing. You don't even have to write anything, just leave your name or something. I'm getting greedy and want to know how big my audience is : )  



	4. Truth Hurts

**A/N: **Once again, thanks for the reviews. It was brought to my attention that my anonymous reviewing was disabled. I didn't even know I could turn that on and off. Sorry to anyone who wanted to review anonymously and couldn't. And sorry to all the lazy people too. I'll blame it on the papercut on my knuckle. The pain was blinding.

Anyhow, I buckled down and came up with a little bit longer chapter. Consider it celebration for an awesome episode. I would have had this chapter in last night, but my email server was down, so I couldn't send it to the basement where I keep my beta.

Speaking of, thanks to my lovely beta, rightersblock for righting all my wrongs. Ha, get it? rightersblock... righting. Yeah, never mind. So have you checked out her work yet? Well, why not?!

P.S. If you're reading this a second time, you'll notice a slight correction. Thanks to a reviewer for pointing that out.

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Brennan lost count of the times she gained and lost consciousness before coming completely back to the waking world. She had fallen forward after the impact. Her arms were pinned under her and her right leg was twisted into a painfully awkward position. Brennan lay there for an indeterminate amount of time, allowing the coolness of the floor to soothe her excruciating headache. She felt that if she moved, her head would simply fall off and that would be the end of things. _Well, you can't just lay here forever._ Even with a head injury, the rational side of her brain still insisted on being heard. 

Brennan began to experiment. She slowly moved her arms out from under her body. Panic struck her for a moment as she found her right leg unresponsive, but she swiftly determined that it had gone numb. Brennan realized she would have to roll over to flex it and restore the flow of blood. Taking a deep breath, she pushed herself over. A loud groan escaped her lips. The earth's rotation appeared to have increased to warp speed. She put her hand to her head to try to stop the relentless pounding. Brennan was disinterestedly aware that her hand was covered a warm sticky substance. As she shut her eyes tightly, it angered her to feel a tear slide down the side of her face and into her ear. Brennan had just decided that she was going to have to wait for someone to find her when she heard someone enter the lab. She stiffened, afraid that it was the thief coming back.

"Bones?" Booth's voice immediately calmed her and her body went slack with relief. Brennan opened her mouth but there was no sound.

()()()bones()()()

The light was on in her office, so Booth naturally headed there first. He called her name as he approached the door. No answer and no one inside. Brennan's cell phone was sitting on her desk, but she was nowhere in sight. Booth's pulse began to quicken as he stepped out of her office and called her name again to be met with no response. Figuring she had gone upstairs and couldn't hear him, Booth set off for the stairs. But his search for his partner ended as soon as Hodgins' office came into sight. A motionless form was sprawled on the floor where a dark substance had collected itself as well. Booth's heart was hammering in his chest as he practically ran to close the distance and slid to his knees beside her.

"Bones." His hands hovered over her, eager to touch but afraid they would hurt. Her pale face was etched with pain. Her eyes kept fluttering closed and each time they did, another tear fell. Booth could barely control his trembling hands as he found his cell phone and called for back-up and an ambulance. He snapped his phone shut, which caused a shudder to pass through Brennan's body. "Sorry." Booth watched her fighting to control her tears. He brushed them away as they fell down her temple. "It's okay. Just cry."

Brennan opened her mouth as if to speak. Booth watched as her lips formed soundless words. Frustration and suffering filled her blue eyes. The heartbreaking struggle was finally too much for him.

"Shh. It can wait." Booth almost jumped when her hand came slamming down on the floor and her eyes flashed angrily. "Ok, I guess it can't." Brennan motioned for him to move closer. He bent over her.

"Hodgins' office. I wouldn't let him in." Brennan's voice was barely above a whisper but it was laced with determination.

"Did you see his face?" His mouth was mere inches from hers. Booth found that he was whispering despite himself.

"No, he had a mask." Brennan's eyes shifted as if she was making a decision. She hesitated before speaking. "He didn't want to hurt me."

"The hell he didn't." A furious storm was boiling beneath the surface and it took all of his willpower for Booth to contain it. He paused and let the moment pass. "Did he say what he wanted?"

"No. He said he was protecting us." That was all she would say. Booth sat back. He knew she was keeping something from him. He also knew that Bones would tell him when she was ready. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, but now wasn't the time.

To his surprise, Brennan's hand inched towards his. Booth took it and held it in his lap between both of his hands. He tried not to be too worried about how cold her skin was. She'd been lying on the floor for God's sake.

Booth hated himself for letting her lie there like that for so long. He had to figure that it had happened shortly after she'd called at 11:30. His phone was charging in the kitchen and he'd fallen asleep watching a rerun of a football game. It took him a few minutes--- too long to wake up and realize that his phone had been ringing.

When Booth's call went to her voicemail, he didn't think much of it; or rather he tried not to. Maybe she'd decided to go to the club and was calling to invite him. Maybe she left something in his car. Maybe… Booth ran countless scenarios through his head, not really believing any of them. He told himself that there was nothing to worry about, but when he was still staring at the ceiling at 12:15, he decided to make sure. Now, sitting here on the cold floor in his partner's blood and holding her hand, Booth couldn't believe he waited forty-five minutes.

Booth heard sirens in the distance and his mind began to shift into FBI mode. The ambulance would take Bones, he would call Angela to meet her at the hospital and he would stay here and make sure that they nailed the bastard to the wall.

Things didn't work out exactly as planned. Booth called Angela, who was with Jack, who demanded they go to the lab and find out what was taken. Evidently, this sparked an argument which delayed the couple for a good ten minutes and ended in a phone call to Booth. It was Jack telling him that if Brennan was fine, he and Angela were going to supervise the police. There was no way he was going to trust his personal files to 'those grubby-fingered pawns'.

As for Booth, he kept one eye on the paramedics working on Bones and the other eye on the agents processing the crime scene. After several of his interferences with the paramedics earned him, in his opinion, some very inconsiderate facial expressions, Booth turned and launched himself on the agents. Barking orders, he watched with pleasure as they tried to satisfy his demands. Before long, he noticed Bones being loaded into the ambulance and his resolve failed. He couldn't stay here. Booth could see the uncertainty and fear that was concealed from the unpracticed eye.

"Wait!" Booth burst out of the lab and caught the paramedic just before he slammed the door. Pulling himself up, Booth smiled when he saw her. Brennan offered a slight smile in return. He tried to get out of the way, finding a seat in the corner. The ambulance roared away as the medics began their work.

()()()bones()()()

They heard her before they could see her. Brennan grinned at Booth as they listened to a whirlwind come down the hall in the form of Angela Montenegro. After two hours of examination and stitches, the pain medication had finally kicked in and Brennan was beginning to demand that she be taken home. A lot of bargaining on Booth's part had eventually pacified her. That, and all the pudding.

"God, Bren, are you okay?" Angela rushed into the room without knocking.

"I'm fine. In fact, I think I can go home now." Booth shook his head.

"No, you're staying here all night for observation." Brennan sighed childishly and rolled her eyes, which she found to be a slightly painful action.

"Hey, hey, don't forget that we made a deal." Brennan brightened considerably and turned to Angela.

"I get to drive on Tuesdays and Thursdays now."

"That's great, sweetie. Booth, have you gotten any sleep? It's almost three o'clock." Booth passed a hand over his face at the mention of the time. "Go, I'll sit with her."

"I'm not a baby. I can be by myself, you know." Brennan's statement of independence went unheeded.

"I'm sure you haven't slept any either."

"Actually, I slept while Jack yelled at the cops for two and a half hours. I wish my car wasn't in the shop. I could've been here with you guys." She offered the two an apologetic smile then shooed Booth out of his chair. "Now get out of here and get some sleep." He relented and let Angela take his seat.

"Bye, Bones. I'll be back sometime today. Don't let anyone take your statement if I'm not here."

"I can give a statement…"

"Just wait for me, Bones." He left no room for discussion. Turning on his heel, he disappeared from sight. Angela was ready for some details.

"Ok, Bren, what happened?"

"I was struck on the head with the grip of a handgun. I lost consciousness and have a concussion, which is why I'm here to be monitored."

"I know all that. I mean _how_ did that happen?" Sometimes it was hard for Angela to keep from getting exasperated with her friend.

"A man was trying to break into Hodgins' office. I snuck up on him, but he heard me. He said he wouldn't hurt me if I let him into the office. He said he was protecting us." Brennan said the last sentence defensively. She was staring at the IV line taped to her hand, doing her best to avoid her friend's intense gaze.

"What, is he suddenly a friend or something?" At that, Brennan looked at Angela so quickly that she had to shut her eyes to wait for the spinning to stop.

"Hey, easy, Bren. I didn't mean to upset you." Angela placed a gentle hand on her forearm. A concerned expression graced her exotic features.

"You didn't." Brennan hurried to cover her reaction. "Your question just caught me off guard." She could tell that Angela didn't believe her, but chose not to say anything. They sat in silence for a few seconds, until Brennan's words spilled out, tumbling over each other. "Ange, it was my dad." Angela started at such an unbelievable assertion.

"Sweetie…"

"No, it was. I recognized his voice."

"You're sure?" Angela wasn't quite ready to believe that a father would hurt his own daughter.

"I know it was. He said my name. It was _him_. He wasn't expecting me to be there and I think he panicked." Brennan gripped the edge of her sheet and tried not to get upset. "Don't tell Booth."

"We have to tell Booth." Angela spoke at the same time as Brennan. The dark-haired beauty sighed and looked at Brennan sympathetically. "Bren, he has to know. Your dad took some of Jack's files. This isn't only about you." Brennan bit her lip and closed her eyes. "Why don't you get some sleep and we'll talk about this tomorrow." Angela patted her hand reassuringly. After Brennan had gotten comfortable and turned out the light, Angela sat in the dark and decided that she had to tell Booth, whether or not Brennan approved.

Angela might have thought that with the identification of the intruder, the case would be wrapped up in a matter of days. But another pair of ears had been listening to the conversation in the hospital room via a small transmitter hidden in the lining of Angela's new purse. At the mention of Brennan's father, the keyboards started up again. All those in the room had suspected the connection, but no one had wanted to risk an assumption. Max Keenan was identified after and hour and a half of frantic research and the objective of the entire operation suddenly shifted to a much higher purpose.

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Review it, my beloved readers and be blessed. And you are now welcome too, oh you lovers of anonymity. 


	5. Allegiances

**A/N: **Not a lot of feedback on the last chapter, so I'm just going to assume that you guys are still hanging in there with me. This chapter was a little harder to write, hence the delay in posting. It explains a little bit more of the connections between some of the characters. Get ready for some more action in the chapter after next. I can't wait to write it.

rightersblock! You guys know what I'm gonna say about her.

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"You don't understand! I have to have those files. If they get into the wrong hands, there's no telling what could happen." Booth pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to contain an exasperated sigh. Jack Hodgins was pacing in front of him, making all sorts of wild speculations and accusations. It was Monday, two days after the break-in. Hodgins and the agents had finished inventorying his files the previous afternoon. 

"Hodgins."

"It took me a long time to collect that information and the people I got it from… it's not like I can just call them up and schedule a freaking lunch date. This is life and death."

"Hodgins!" Booth placed himself directly in the man's path, forcing him to stop.

"What?"

"I'm going to go back to being the _special agent_ and you're going to pretend to be cooperative." Booth was glad he had insisted on handling this particular interview. It was for Angela's sake, really. He was afraid that Hodgins would end up either arrested or institutionalized if he talked to anyone else. The interview had gotten off to a rough start, as Hodgins had refused to even set foot in the FBI headquarters. As an alternative, Booth had suggested they use one of the conference rooms at the Jeffersonian. Hodgins had agreed, but that proved to be the easy part.

"I am cooperating. I don't have to be here and…"

"If you want me to find your stuff, you have to tell me what's missing. You're the only one who can tell us that." After thinking for a moment, a defeated Hodgins sank into the closest chair.

"There're two files missing. I kept them locked in a filing cabinet in my office."

"Why do you keep your personal files here?" Booth took a seat across the table.

"It's safer than my apartment. No one's ever broken into the Jeffersonian. I had no reason to think that anyone could break in here without being caught." That was a major disappointment in the case. The security cameras hadn't caught a face, only a dark figure. None of the security guards had seen the man. Someone had pulled a fire alarm in the parking deck, leaving the security video unwatched. A new, though overdue mandate was made that at least one guard would always be watching the security feeds. Booth had forced himself to review the video countless times, trying to be helpful. It was sickening to watch Brennan fall to the floor over and over.

"Does anyone else know that you keep them here?"

"I didn't think so."

"What were the files about?"

"No way, man!" Hodgins jumped to his feet again. "I can't tell you that."

"Why not?" Frustration was beginning to get the best of Booth.

"You're a Federal Agent. Whatever information I give you is going straight to your boss and then to his boss, and then who knows where."

"We transmit it to the aliens. You should give Mulder and Scully a call." Hodgins looked at Booth warily. "Come on, Hodgins. I think I've proven that you can trust me. Besides, what's the point of a conspiracy theory if you just keep it to yourself?"

"The point is to stay alive." With a defiant glare, Hodgins sat back down and appeared to be giving in. He leaned confidingly towards Booth. "They were about a club downtown. It's a front for a gang with strong ties to the mafia. Most of the club's regular patrons are young politicians and the like."

"Easy way to keep tabs." Booth was surprised by Hodgins' rather believable statement.

"Exactly. The fact that someone would steal the evidence is proof that my theory isn't so absurd after all."

"Who's your informant?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"In the world of conspiracy theorists, there are no names, no personal information. If one of us is killed or captured, the others are safe. Sometimes ignorance is bliss." Booth nodded in understanding.

"I think we're done for now. If you remember anything or notice anything else missing…"

"You'll be the first to know."

"Actually, Agent Booth would be the second individual to be informed. You, Dr. Hodgins, would be the first person conscious of the missing materials, enabling you to tell Agent Booth of the observation." The men at the table turned to find Dr. Zack Addy standing awkwardly in the doorway.

"Thanks for the clarification, Zack." Booth gathered his notes. "Did you need something?"

"I thought you'd like to know that Dr. Brennan just arrived." Zack didn't know it, but he'd just caused a whirlwind of trouble. Brennan was still supposed to be at home, in bed, recovering. The doctor gave her permission to resume normal activities on Friday. Booth had pleaded with her to follow the doctor's orders. But, of course, his stubborn Bones didn't listen to anyone.

"Thanks Zack." Booth rushed out of the conference room, leaving Hodgins to explain to Zack that he would probably die at the hands of his former mentor.

---

Booth made his way across the lab, already playing the conversation in his mind. He was oblivious as Angela stepped into his path and he would have run into her had she not spoken. "Booth, I need to talk to you."

"In a minute, Angela." Booth moved around her and continued on his warpath.

She was sitting at her desk with her back to the door, staring at nothing in particular. "Bones, what are you doing here?" Booth came into the office and shut the door, surprised that his voice carried none of his anger.

"I couldn't just sit around and be completely unproductive for a week. I have to do _something_."

"Well, you sure do look like you're getting a lot done here." His frustration had finally surfaced in the form of sarcasm.

"Your tone and your words are contradictory. I don't know what that means." Booth sat down on the couch and put his face in his hands.

"Why can't you just listen to people, Bones? They're usually trying to take care of you. Go home and rest like the doctor told you. It's not that hard." He was met with silence, but refused to give in to her obstinacy. Booth held his ground up until the point he heard her crying. He crossed the office in two strides and was kneeling in front of her so he could see her face. Brennan was staring at her hands as tears streamed down her cheeks. "Hey." Picking her hands up, he led her to the couch and gently sat her down. Booth debated with himself for only a second before deciding that now was not the time for giving space. He sat right next to her and put his arm around her. Brennan immediately moved closer and rested her head on his shoulder.

Booth kept quiet, waiting until she was ready to talk. It didn't take long. "I'm sorry. I tried to listen. I just… I didn't want to be alone." Guilt was steadily creeping into Booth's consciousness. "I should have listened to him."

"Who?" His other hand had found one of Brennan's and she seemed to be hanging onto it as if it was her only connection to sanity. Perhaps it was.

"He said he was protecting me and I should have listened." Realization dawned on Booth. She was talking about the incident.

"You had no reason to believe him. You were defending your territory. That's just who you are, Bones. You're one of the bravest people I know." Sure, Booth was trying to make her feel better, but he wasn't lying either.

"I had every reason to believe him. Booth…"

"What? You can tell me."

"I don't want to be alone."

"You're not. I'm right here." Booth had never seen her like this. Maybe it was the head injury. Nevertheless, he knew what this confession must be costing her and anything he could do to help her was worth it. Not that he minded having her so close. Pushing his selfish thoughts back down, he turned his full attention back to Brennan.

"But you might leave. Everyone else has." A little part of Booth broke at the admission of her fear. In that moment, Special Agent Seeley Booth vowed to never, ever desert the woman in his arms. Nothing could break that promise. "And now he came back and hurt me and stole from my friend."

"Came back? Bones, what are you talking about?"

"It was my dad." Fresh tears sprang to her eyes as she looked up at him. Left speechless, Booth could only stare back at her. His investigator's mind began to compile a list of motives. But Brennan had a much more powerful hold on him. He held her even tighter and he forced the FBI in him to calm down.

"Ok. It's ok. We'll figure this out." Booth was almost rocking her and somehow their fingers had become entwined on Brennan's lap. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I don't know. I was afraid to."

"Bones, don't ever be afraid to tell me anything. I want to help you, okay?" _I want to take care of you because I love you._ Booth wished that she could read his thoughts as her head nodded against his arm. After another five minutes of Brennan allowing Booth to comfort her, she sat up slowly and dried her eyes. "Let me take you home."

"Yeah." Booth helped her gather the little that she had brought with her and followed her out the door. Angela caught his attention as he passed. Booth handed the keys to Brennan and told her he was coming.

"Brennan told you, didn't she?"

"Yeah, she did. Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?" Angela's eyes carried a guilty look as she nodded.

"I thought you needed to know."

"I do. But I knew she'd tell me when she was ready."

"Wait, you knew she wasn't telling you something?" Angela was now sporting a mischievous and delighted smile. "You guys are so in-tune with each other. It's so great."

"Bye, Angela."

"Just making a comment." Angela was still wearing an illuminating smile as she watched one half of her favorite almost-couple leave.

---

One the other side of town, in the old warehouse, a meeting was taking place. Seven men sat at a table while one walked a slow circle around them. Terror hung in the air.

"Why didn't I know about the relationship between Temperance Brennan and Max Keenan?" The Voice, Andre Rovetto, stopped walking and stared each man in the eye.

"Sir, Agent Booth was our first priority. When we started looking at Brennan… her record was a mess, Mr. Rovetto. She was in the foster care system and before that, her name was changed."

"That's not good enough! I want him to personally answer for what he did to me and my family. I want you to bring him to me."

"Yes, sir." The men exchanged glances, wondering if they should say more. A young man with glasses at the end of the table chose to offer more.

"We have surveillance on Max Keenan from a few months back when he resurfaced for a few days. That was, of course, before he committed the crime against you." Rovetto motioned for the man to continue. "We have pictures of some kind of information swap. We're almost positive that the other man is Dr. Jack Hodgins."

"Do you have any idea what the nature of the information was?"

"After cross-checking dates of Hodgins' articles in an online conspiracy magazine, we've tentatively determined that the information was about the club."

"Keenan is Hodgins' informant?"

"One of them, yes." The confident young man plunged forward almost haughtily. "If Keenan did in fact break into the Jeffersonian and remove some of Hodgins' files, I think we can correctly assume that he was doing so to protect Hodgins from being found with them in his possession."

"I don't like your tone of voice." With that, Rovetto pumped two bullets into the young man's chest. No one blinked and the meeting continued as if nothing had happened.

"I want you to advise Dr. Hodgins to get in touch with Keenan. Do we have anyone trailing the good doctor?"

"Yes, sir. Hodgins will be tracked starting tonight."

"Good. Step up the surveillance on the girl. I want her to feel threatened. Maybe she'll contact him."

"How threatened?"

"Stage an attempt on her life. Keenan needs to know that we're serious. I want Agent Booth with her when it happens. If he gets killed or injured in the crossfire, it could work to our advantage. If Keenan feels she's unprotected, he'll turn up. That's what he's done in the past." Rovetto motioned that the meeting was over and the men jumped to their feet. He stopped one of them, pointing with disdain to the dead man on the floor. "And get Jerry and Mike in here to deal with him."

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If anyone's still out there, leave a note! You don't even have to sign in, you lazy people. : )  



	6. Oh, My God

**A/N:** Thank you guys so much for your wonderful reviews. They really, really motivate me. I'm so excited about the next chapter. You'll need to buckle in for it.

Oh, I got one comment that our bad guy, Rovetto was very Jack Bauerish. I regret to inform you all that I've never watched 24, so I didn't draw any influence from there. It all came from my head... which is possibly a little disturbing. I'm sure that I would love 24. I'm also sure that I would become and incurable addict and that's a lot of DVDs to rent.

Sorry, one more comment. I hope you know that I'm just teasing when I call you lazy. It's meant in the most loving way possible.

Thanks to my beta!

* * *

It was Friday and Jack Hodgins was one nervous, excited man. He'd been planning the perfect date for three weeks and now he was putting it into action. Angela didn't know it yet, but starting at five o'clock, she would feel like a princess. "How do I look?" Hodgins tapped Zack on the shoulder. He was hunched over an impressive microscope and scribbling notes on a tablet PC. Hodgins knew he looked good, but he wanted some ego-stroking, even if it was from the kid-genius.

"Your grooming is impeccable. The suit appears to be rather expensive. I do believe, though, that your tie is slightly crooked." A helpful Zack took a step closer and attempted to straighten the gray silk tie.

"Uh, you guys need a minute?" Booth coughed, trying to cover his laughter. Hodgins jumped away from Zack, whose gaze shifted between the two other men in bewilderment.

"Is this a social stigma?" Hodgins was busying himself with anything he could find, while Booth watched in amusement. Zack's question went unheeded and Booth decided to let Hodgins off the hook. He had more important things to tease.

"Where's Bones?"

"With Angela, working on a facial reconstruction."

"I hope you're not talking about Brennan's face." Hodgins saw the opening and went for it. He wasn't quick enough though. Zack inadvertently beat him to the punch with his naïve confusion.

"Are you implying that you find Dr. Brennan's facial features attractive and do not wish them to be altered?" Booth was already halfway out the door. He stopped his retreat to offer an ambiguous smile, to which Hodgins responded with a yell filled with laughter while Zack gave up on his attempt to decipher the peculiarities of the interaction between modern males.

- - -

"So Booth came to your house every day?"

"Yes." Brennan concentrated on the tiny fragments of the shattered skull. Angela was entering the parameters of the case into her computer. Soft jazz music filled the room, creating a relaxing, productive atmosphere.

"Bren, that's big."

"It's not. It's perfectly natural and platonic for co-workers to express concern for one another."

"Did he bring you anything?" Angela tucked her legs under her and braced her elbows on the desk. Brennan glance at her and smirked.

"You look like a preadolescent waiting for some tidbit of useless gossip."

"Stop avoiding the question."

"I'm not avoiding. I was only making an observation about your body language."

"God, you've been away for too long. You haven't had anyone to speak your geek to. I forgive you, sweetie. Now, tell me!"

"He brought me dinner." Brennan pretended to be nonchalant. She continued to meticulously separate the bone shards. The ability to concentrate on a job while following a conversation with an excitable Angela was an art at which Brennan excelled. She was even unconsciously proud of the acquired skill.

"Every night?"

"Possibly."

"He did!" Angela was positively electric.

"He did what?" The object of their conversation came up behind them.

"You brought her dinner every night?" Brennan was painfully aware of her burning cheeks as well as Booth's eyes on her. Keeping her hands steadily at work, Brennan mentally kicked herself for betraying what was on her mind. How did that man always manage to tear down her carefully constructed fortress?

"She had to eat."

"It was the only time he let me work." A loose strand of auburn hair had slipped from her ponytail. Brennan tucked it behind her ear as she sat up straight, offering a defiant expression to her partner. She wouldn't ever admit it, but she'd secretly enjoyed those few hours every day. They sat at her kitchen table together after eating the food he brought, each working on their own business. Sometimes they sat in silence, other times Brennan turned on some music. The last day, however, work went neglected and they talked instead. It was serious talking, about everything from camping to Parker to the concept of Valentine's Day. That night was a precious memory that each would hold for a long time.

"Brennan listened to you? She didn't work? She just… rested like she was supposed to?" Angela seemed genuinely awestruck.

"Brennan's still here, Ange." She cringed at being reduced to referring to herself in the third person.

"You really are her knight in shining FBI standard-issue body armor."

"Angela!" Booth was grinning like a Cheshire cat as he pulled the back of the rolling chair on which Brennan was perched. The chair slid across the floor and he stopped it when she was a little behind him. "Booth!" But he was already distracted by something else.

"Hey, Zack!" He motioned to the young PhD, who responded quickly. Poor Zack was always striving to please Seeley Booth but never seemed to succeed.

"Yes, Agent Booth?"

"Clean up that monkey skull Bones was putting back together." Booth waved his hand vaguely.

"It's not a monkey skull, Booth. Our preliminary findings indicate that it is the skull of a _Homo rhodesiensis_. If we're correct, it will be a fascinating addition to…"

"That's wonderful, Bones. How about you tell me about it in the car? Or not, your choice." Brennan looked at her partner skeptically. "Let's go, we have a case." At that, Brennan's features lit up with a smile and she rushed to her office to get her field kit. There were no complaints about how late it was in the afternoon, only further impressing on her friends how much she enjoyed her job. Booth waited for her and they headed towards the door side by side. He turned back suddenly. "Oh, and Angela, there's a very good-looking man waiting to take you out on a date." He winked at her and disappeared.

- - -

"This has been so perfect. Thank you." Angela and Hodgins strolled arm in arm through downtown Washington. Jack had thought of everything. A limo picked them up at the Jeffersonian an hour after the Dynamic Duo made their exit. Jack treated her to a candlelit dinner at restaurant that Angela could not have afforded otherwise. It was well after nine o'clock when they left the restaurant. She was expecting to find the limo waiting to take them home. Instead, Jack delighted her with a private, after-hours viewing of a new art gallery she'd been longing to visit. The money didn't matter, but it sure had its perks.

"You deserve it." Angela never would have picked Hodgins for a romantic, but he had shown her that first impressions are overrated.

"What are we doing now?" Barely stifling a yawn, she checked her cell phone for the time. It was eleven-thirty and there were two missed calls and one new voicemail. Angela decided to check it later, not wanting to spoil the mood.

"We're going to get in that limo right across the street and if it's alright with you, we'll go to your place."

"We never go to your house."

"I like your apartment, it's cozy. And it's you all over. My house is too big and nothing in it reminds me of you."

"Well, we can change that pretty easily." Angela placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. Even in the dark, she knew he was blushing.

"Are you trying to seduce me?"

"Is it working?" Hodgins' only reply was to stop their walk and kiss her soundly.

----

Despite Angela's attempts to persuade him, the pair ended up at Angela's apartment. Jack set his overnight bag on the bed, wondering when he'd get the courage to ask her to move into his place. He wanted her presence to fill that house. Maybe it would finally feel like home with her there.

"Hey, Ange, I picked up that movie you said you wanted to see." Hodgins unzipped his bag and pulled out the DVD case. Slowly making his way back to the living room, he read the back of the movie. It was some nonsense about two people falling in love while they lived two years apart. Anything for Angela. "Ange? Didn't you say it was _The Lake House_?" As he popped open the case, two pieces of paper fluttered out. Picking them up, his name in black print piqued his interest. Hodgins stopped completely, absorbed by the note. His heart thundered in his chest.

_Dr. Jack Hodgins:_

_We know what you do. We know who one of your informants is and we have some business with him. You have one chance to contact the man who gave you the information about the club downtown. Do not call the police or speak to Agent Booth on this matter. Schedule a meeting for sometime next week at Arlington Cemetery. Just remember what exactly is at stake for you._

With trembling hands, Jack looked at the other piece of paper. It was a picture. The blood rushed from his face when recognition dawned. It was Angela walking down the sidewalk on a sunny day. In one hand she held a coffee and in the other was a shopping bag. The picture was dated just two days before. "Oh, my God." Hodgins was absent-mindedly walking toward the kitchen. Angela was there. "Angela."

She had her cell phone to her ear and motioned for him to wait. Taking the phone from her ear, she pressed a button to play her messages. "Brennan called around ten and again at eleven. I hope everything's okay."

"It's probably something about the new case. Angela, I have to talk to you. It can't wait."

"Ok, just a second."

"Angela!" His exasperation faded as he was suddenly aware that Angela's face was growing paler with each passing second. "What's the matter?" He crossed the kitchen to stand in front of her. The message ended and she closed the phone. Hodgins watched with concern as she sank into the nearest chair and put her head in her hands. He only heard one discernable phrase fall from her mouth.

"Oh, my God."

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Please review! I love getting reviews. They give me the confidence to keep going. 


	7. Minor Detour

**A/N: **Ok, ok. I know I promised some action in this chapter, but this ended up... not... being... that... chapter. It'll be the next one. This chapter kind of abducted me. Some of the conversations just wrote themselves and then my chapter was going to end up being too long. I love to torture you guys! On a related note, I'm not sure that I'll be able to update tomorrow so be prepared.

Anyhow, I'm sure you'll figure this out, but this chapter starts from Booth and Brennan leaving and follows them instead of Angela and Hodgins. Hope you like it and don't get too mad that you still don't know what happened to our Dynamic Duo.

**Please, please leave a note. You don't even have to sign in or say anything constructive. You have no idea how motivated I get when a bunch of reviews come in. I always fear that I'm losing readers. **There, now you know one of my insecurities. We're practically best friends now.

R-I-G-H-T-E-R-S-B-L-O-C-K- - -B-E-T-A

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"Oh, and Angela, there's a very good-looking man waiting to take you out on a date." Booth turned 

back to find Bones already out the door and marching across the parking lot. It was good to have her back, even if she was unusually overeager at the moment. Booth approached the car to find her waiting on the driver's side.

"Can I drive?"

"I don't think so, Bones."

"But we made a deal." Brennan made a grab for the keys that Booth was now dangling in front of her.

"Right, Tuesdays and Thursdays."

"And Fridays." Her back was against the side of the car and he moved in closer. Booth wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but an electric current seemed to be running between the two of them.

"Are you trying to trick me?"

"Is it working?" Was Bones flirting with him? That line sounded suspiciously like one of Angela's, but he was impressed nonetheless.

"Bones, are you flirting with me?" Booth hadn't meant to give voice to his thoughts. He almost visibly winced at his indiscretion. The current was broken immediately, which did indeed confirm its existence as she ducked her head and went around to the passenger side. Booth unlocked the doors and climbed inside. He should've had more self-control. Just when things were starting to click with them, he went and scared her off.

They drove in awkward silence. Booth stared at the road while Brennan went through her bag, making sure everything in her kit was as she left it. He was just about to apologize when she spoke up. "Can you give me some details on this case?"

"There was a skeleton found in Manassas."

"Are you sure it's not another family gravesite?"

"It's not usually considered normal to bury loved ones in the basement wall."

"Actually, excavations have shown that the Mimbres Indians buried their dead under the floor with a pot covering the head."

"Very Edgar Allan Poe." Brennan obviously perceived this as encouragement.

"Both the origins and the circumstances surrounding the disappearance of the tribe are an archeological mystery." Booth waited a few seconds to make sure that she was finished talking.

"Anyway, I'm fairly sure that this case has nothing to with Native Americans."

"Don't make assumptions. You don't know what the evidence says."

"Bones…" Part of Booth wanted to argue with her while the other part said that he'd already done enough damage for the day.

"What?"

"Want to listen to some music?"

"Okay." Booth turned on the radio and watched with satisfaction as Bones pressed the preset buttons until she landed on a hip-hop station. He'd set that channel with her in mind. It was about a forty-five minute trip to Manassas. About twenty minutes into the drive, Booth felt his phone vibrating in his jacket pocket. Looking at the caller ID, he groaned at the sight of Rebecca's name. Opening the phone, Booth looked at his partner appreciatively as she turned the music down.

"Yes, Rebecca?"

"Can you pick Parker up tonight?"

"I thought I didn't have to pick him up until tomorrow."

"Well, something came up at the last minute and I need you to pick him up tonight."

"Is it a date?" The silence on the other end of the line confirmed his guess.

"Don't you want to see your son?"

"Of course I do, you know that. It's just I'm driving out to a crime scene right now."

"Always working."

"Rebecca…" Booth braced himself for a fight. He would give anything to avoid a confrontation with Bones sitting right beside him.

"Is she with you?" Booth knew instinctively who she was asking about.

"Yes, she's my partner." From the corner of his eye, he saw Bones look at him.

"That's good." That wasn't how he was expecting the conversation to turn. It sounded sincere. "She's a good friend to you." With that cryptic statement, Rebecca shifted back to their son. "I can get a babysitter. Do you think you can pick him up later tonight when you're done with work?"

"It might be late for him. Probably around nine-thirty."

"That's fine."

"You spending the night somewhere or something?"

"Thank you, Seeley. Bye." He sighed as he hung up.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Hey, do you mind if we pick Parker up on the way back?"

"No."

"They live in Alexandria."

"That's a very wealthy community."

"I know. I'm pretty sure I pay half the rent, too."

- - -

"Bones, I think they know what they're doing. We can leave now." Brennan stood her ground. She knew she was micro-managing, but the thought didn't occur to her that it was annoying. It was a natural habit, born from years of independence. If she couldn't do it herself, she made sure others performed the task exactly as she would. Accordingly, Brennan was now supervising the removal of the remains from the wall. The house was demolished the day before to make room for a new grocery store. The construction workers were shocked when a tumble of bones came spilling from the smashed wall. It was delicate work to remove the bones correctly from the rubble.

"If anything is damaged, the integrity of your case could be compromised."

"But you do this _every time_. I'm sure they know by now how you like things done." Booth tugged at her arm like a child pestering his mother. "If we don't leave soon, I'm going to be late getting Parker, which means I have to pay the babysitter more." Brennan knew all this. What she couldn't tell Booth was that she was stalling on purpose. It occurred to Brennan that it was irrational to be afraid of a child, but she was. Sure, she'd spent some time with Parker, but not anything personal or at all lengthy. She was nervous. This was Booth's son. There was a special commitment to making sure that Parker liked her, though she couldn't explain it.

"I suppose the remains will arrive safely at the lab." Brennan decided time would only make her nervousness more intense.

"Of course they will, Bones. Now, let's go." Booth practically jogged to the SUV while Brennan followed at a slower pace, glancing over her shoulder, still watching the transport preparation. "Bones, come on." Booth had already started the car and was yelling at her through the open window.

"I'm coming, I'm coming."

The drive to Alexandria was pleasant. Being Christmas time, many of the old houses along the way were decorated elaborately with white lights, garlands, and big red bows. "Don't you just love Christmas, Bones?" Brennan raised her eyes to him, wishing that they didn't hold the sadness that she knew they did. She watched curiously as he turned his head to the window. Brennan thought she heard an uttered curse. "I'm sorry. I forgot."

"Just because that my parents abandoned me and my brother around Christmas doesn't mean that I have to detest the season. I think it's a wonderful time for…" _Those who have people who love them. Those who have a family. Those who…_ She stopped. She knew she wasn't being fair to her friends.

"Bones, you have every reason to resent this time of year." Booth took advantage of her pause to reassure her, thinking that she was upset.

"No."

"What?"

"Don't encourage my… ungratefulness." It was hard hit on Brennan's pride for her to say this. "I need to concentrate on what I have and what I've gained, not what I've lost." Brennan let the houses fly past without concentrating on any of them. "If my parents hadn't left, who knows what I would be doing now? I probably wouldn't know Ange, or Hodgins or Zack. You wouldn't be my partner." She was acutely aware of the emotion that was driving her train of thought. It was peculiar to find that she felt more rational than she ever had in her life.

Booth didn't say anything at all. He simply took her hand, which was resting on the console between them. That one, uncomplicated gesture meant everything to her. Brennan knew that her partner now completely understood at least one aspect of her psyche.

After a short while, they pulled into the drive of an attractive townhouse sandwiched between two others just like it. Brennan waited in the car, watching Booth take the front steps two at a time and ring the doorbell. A few seconds later, the door opened and a small figure rushed out, crashing right into Booth's legs. Smiling down at the boy, he paid the babysitter. Accepting a little backpack and booster-seat from the woman, he led his son down the steps to the car. Parker didn't see Brennan until he was lifted up into the backseat on the driver's side. He greeted her excitedly while Booth strapped him into his booster-seat.

"Dr. _Bones_!" Brennan restrained herself from looking to Booth at the emphasized nickname.

"Hi, Parker."

"Daddy says he's going to take me to see your… what is it, Daddy?"

"A museum."

"Yeah, he's going to show me your musemum soon." Brennan resisted the urge to correct him.

"Well, it's not _mine_." Booth got behind the wheel again and backed out of the driveway.

"Look, Dr. Bones. Mommy buyed this for me today. I was good while she was shopping." Parker was proudly displaying a mixed-up Rubik's Cube.

"What is it?" Booth was trying to see the mystery item in the rearview mirror.

"A Rubik's Cube."

"Oh, good, something educational, frustrating and impossible. What more could a kid need?"

"It's a challenging mental exercise."

"He's only four, Bones."

"Daddy, I'm almost five." Parker held up three of his fingers as an illustration.

"Almost, buddy. So, do you know what that is that Mommy bought you?"

"What?" Parker was examining the cube intensely.

"An addictive Pandora's Box." A confused expression that resembled his father's flitted across Parker's still babyish face.

"I don't think he knows what that means."

"Dr. Bones, I know how to fix it."

"Really?" Brennan turned in her seat, eager to see the boy solve the puzzle.

"See?" Parker twisted the segments back and forth. A few seconds passed and he stopped and smiled at her. "That's what you have to do." Brennan faced forward again, clearly disappointed. Booth started to laugh.

"Did you think that you had Zack back there or something?" Brennan punched his arm playfully while Parker giggled in the backseat. It was better than music to Brennan's ears.

- - -

The drive from Alexandria to D.C. was only supposed to take about fifteen minutes. But, almost as soon as Booth merged onto the George Washington Parkway, they came to a stop. A sea of brake lights created a depressing horizon.

"Shi…oot." Parker was swinging his dangling legs and looking out the window, oblivious to his father's slip. Brennan wondered at the tendency of humans to try to protect their young from acquiring their own bad habits. Her pondering was disrupted by Parker.

"Daddy, I'm hungry."

"Didn't Miss Laura feed you?" Booth was distractedly fiddling with his two-way radio.

"Yes, but Miss Laura makes yucky macaroni and cheese."

"I have to get Bones home, bud. And it's way past your bedtime. Why don't you try to go to sleep? You won't be hungry anymore and we can go to IHOP for breakfast." Booth looked at his son in the mirror. The radio finally picked up a local police frequency referring to a four-car pileup on George Washington Parkway.

"I'm _not_ tired. Miss Laura made me take a nap." Parker grimaced at the apparently distressing memory. "Daddy, please."

"Booth, come on. We're not going anywhere in this traffic." Brennan could still hear Parker pleading his case from the backseat, unaware that no one was listening. "Miss Laura makes yucky macaroni and cheese, Booth. You just can't argue against that." Brennan gave Parker a thumbs up, which he returned enthusiastically. She was glad that she remembered that form of childish communication. Overthrown, Booth steered toward the nearest exit. Brennan didn't know it, but she had endeared herself to one almost-five-year-old Parker Booth. And neither Booth nor Brennan could foresee the life-saving actions they would take for each other before that night was over.

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Remember, the more reviews I get, the faster my fingers fly.  



	8. In the Deep

**A/N: **Sorry for the delay in posting, I was out last night. Anyhow, I love this chapter and I hope you do too. I'm thinking maybe two more chapters before Christmas. All you fluff-lovers, the next chapter is for you.

Thank you so much to all who reviewed, you're my heroes. Got a lot of comments about my flying fingers. Interesting.

rightersblock is da beta.

Oh yeah, the title for this chapter was inspired by the song "In the Deep" by Bird York. It's a beautiful song.

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"Booth, are you sure it's beneficial to let him eat that quarter to ten?" 

"You know you want some, Bones." Brennan's expression was priceless as she watched Agent Booth and Little Booth enjoy a large slab of chocolate cake. "Live a little." Slicing off a bite, Booth waved the fork in front of her. Eyeing the chocolate, Brennan snatched it suddenly from his hand and stuck it in her mouth. She then serenely handed the fork back. Booth laughed outright and Parker joined in, even though he had no idea what he was laughing at. The ignorance of childhood was beautiful. "See? It's great."

"Yeah, Dr. Bones, it's great." Parker bounced in his chair.

"It'll be fun getting him to go to bed tonight." Booth motioned for the bill. They had found a small diner on one of the side-streets of outer Alexandria. It sat back a little ways from the road, allowing for a small parking lot. Somewhat neglected apartment complexes jutted out on either side, creating a sort of cove for the homey restaurant. Brennan had never been in this part of suburbs surrounding D.C. Though Alexandria was a very safe place to live, they weren't exactly inside the heart of the rich community. Had Booth not been with her, she would have felt quite insecure. Brennan trusted his judgment, especially with his son in tow. If he felt it was safe, then it probably was.

"How much do I owe you?"

"Oh, I got it." As if to insist on it, Booth pulled his wallet out of his pocket.

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to. Why don't you go ahead and get him loaded up while I pay for this?" Brennan caught the keys that were tossed to her. Parker was being resistant in allowing his father to wipe the chocolate from his mouth while Brennan protested the proposal.

"I don't know how to do that seat thing he sits in."

"It's easy, Bones. Parker can help you." The boy leaped down from his chair, preoccupied by his light-up tennis shoes. "Parker, go to the car with Bones and show her how to put you in your booster-seat."

"Yeah!" He jumped again, still focused on his shoes.

"Parker." The warning got his attention. Brennan noted that Booth provided an appropriate mixture of fun and discipline, extremely desirable qualities in a parental partner. She was, of course, thinking of Rebecca, not herself. Brennan hastily and gratefully pushed such thoughts out of her head as Parker's small hand slipped into hers. Something inside Brennan was touched. Unwarranted maternal feelings, she supposed. It was a natural biological reaction, nothing more.

The mismatched pair exited the diner. Brennan immediately felt more vulnerable, which was intensified by the presence of her young companion. The black SUV was the only vehicle in the parking lot, other than a beat-up old VW Rabbit that didn't appear to be operable. In the dark alley beside the restaurant, Brennan could barely make out the shape of a sedan, probably the café owner's. As they approached the car, Brennan felt an increasingly unbearable tension. There was something wrong, but she couldn't do anything about it. Brennan could feel her palms starting to sweat and she could feel her heart pounding. All of her senses were on overload. She could hear the grit grinding under their shoes. By the time they were about fifty feet from the car, it was almost mentally suffocating. Brennan was so focused, that it took her a moment to realize that Booth had burst out of the door and was yelling frantically.

"Run! Get to the car!" Looking down, Brennan numbly noticed a red dot wavering on her right shoulder. She realized what it was in a terrifying instant. Scooping Parker up, she broke into a run just as a bullet bounced off the pavement behind her. The metallic jingle of the car keys registered in her mind. Brennan realized that she had dropped them. Practically sliding behind the protection of the SUV, she tried to think clearly. Brennan could plainly hear the bullets piercing the other side of the car. She couldn't think of anything else. Clutching the petrified child tightly against her, she tried to make them as small of a target as possible.

Desperately, she tried to find Booth. She needed him to tell her what to do. Brennan had no idea. She saw him in the diner just snapping his phone shut. Watching him remove his jacket and draw his gun, she knew with sickening perception what he was about to attempt. Brennan wanted to scream at him not to do it, but her voice wouldn't cooperate.

She watched in horror as her partner flung open the door and sprinted across the open space. Tears sprang to her eyes. Brennan was positive that she was going to witness the death of her partner, her friend… her love. The bullets bit at his heels. She didn't breathe again until he literally dove behind the car. The shots ceased for a moment, enough time for the gunman to reload.

"Are either of you hurt?" Brennan shook her head mutely at her partner before the bullets began to rain down again. She felt so helpless. All she could do was to hold Parker. Booth rose slightly and leaned around the side of the SUV, firing two shots in the general direction of the source of the attack. The sound reverberated off of the surrounding buildings. Brennan closed her eyes and willed the whole thing to stop. Every time Booth pumped off another round, a piece of her wall crumbled. It emphasized to her how dependent she was on Booth. He was her lifeline and she was becoming too comfortable. Booth would hurt her. That was how it always ended.

"Bones, open the front door and pull out the clips under the seat." Brennan was returned to the awful reality by Booth's demand.

"I dropped the keys." Just as she said this, Booth's gun clicked. The chamber was empty. The barrage against the car had yet to halt for more than a few seconds at a time. Booth looked at her and in his eyes, Brennan found a reckless and despairing man. Her world felt like it was smashed into tiny, irrecoverable pieces as she realized that she had failed him. Booth had risked his life to protect her and she had failed him in the one thing she could do to help.

"Okay, okay." Booth was obviously struggling with his next course of action. Brennan could see beads of sweat on his forehead. His clothes were streaked with dirt. Her eyes returned to his face, seemed to gain a new determination as he crawled to where Brennan was sitting on the ground. He put a hand on Parker's back and his hand wandered to Brennan's arm. Her breath hitched in her throat. Between their hopeless situation and Booth's close proximity, her warring emotions were threatening to overwhelm her. The shots stopped again.

"Booth?" He tucked her hair behind her ear so he could see her face. Brennan knew that he was trying to keep her from feeling the fear that was readily apparent in his eyes.

"Yeah?"

"When they figure out we're just sitting here, what if… what if they decide to come down here?" Booth tightened his grip on her arm and leaned in closer.

"You listen to me, Bones. I _will not_ let _anything_ happen to you. I'll do whatever it takes." The fierceness in his voice almost scared her. To know that he would die for her was disconcerting and dizzying. The apprehension was deafening in the near-silence as they waited for the barrage to begin again. All she could hear was Booth's heavy breathing and Parker's soft crying. A few seconds passed and Brennan was startled to hear an impact and then the screeching of tires. Then nothing. Booth hastily moved away and peered around the car. "What the hell?" The sound of approaching sirens sounded heavenly. Booth stood cautiously. "It's over." Brennan could hear the confusion in his voice.

"Are you sure?" The three-word question was all Brennan could manage. It couldn't be over just like that. But if Booth said it was… then it was. Brennan allowed the adrenaline to wash over her and leave her body. She slumped against the car. Parker was still clinging to her and she could feel his little body heaving with sobs. The world seemed to be moving in slow-motion. Booth appeared over her and gently helped her up. Brennan could feel her legs shaking beneath her. Booth took his son from her and wrapped his arms around the distraught boy. She suddenly felt like an outsider. That was until their eyes met a moment later. His brown eyes conveyed so much concern and… something else. She almost melted under the intensity.

"Bones." Brennan was startled to hear his voice so thick with emotion. Booth continued to hold his son in one arm and pulled her to him with the other. Her arms automatically went around his neck. She held onto him almost as tightly as Parker had hung on to her. Brennan heard him whisper in her ear. "We're even now." She knew immediately what he was referring to. "I wasn't scared. I was terrified, Bones. I thought I was going to lose you. Both of you. You're all I have." Booth was practically choking out the words. She realized that he was crying. Brennan buried her face in the crook of his neck, feeling safer than ever. She thought her imagination was beginning to play tricks on her when she felt a tender kiss on her neck. There was no time to contemplate however, as her trembling legs abruptly gave way and she sank into darkness in Booth's arms.

- - -

Booth surveyed the crime scene, trying to figure out what happened. A well-kept man and his gun were lying on the asphalt in a pool of blood. The man was missing a sizeable portion of his head. It was obvious that someone had shot him, the force of which sent him crashing to the ground three stories below. The Medical Examiner confirmed that the bullet had entered the back of the skull, eliminating Booth as the shooter. The million dollar question was now the identity of the third character in the drama, their savior.

Tire marks were found in the alleyway. Booth figured that they had one witness, the one who was driving the getaway car. Unfortunately, Booth suspected that he was on the wrong side of the law. He scanned the parking lot, which was now buzzing with both FBI and Metro Police. Booth's eyes and heart stopped on a police cruiser several yards from his shot-up SUV.

She was sitting sideways in the backseat of the car with her head resting against the seat, staring at nothing and probably thinking about everything. Parker had fallen asleep on her lap, his small arms still wrapped around her neck and his legs around her waist. He wished that Brennan was Parker's mother. God, how he wished that for them.

Brennan's face was still pale and she was weak from her collapse, but she refused to go to the hospital, saying that it was only a side-effect of her head injury the week before. Booth vaguely remembered the doctor telling her that she was to avoid strenuous activities for at least a week. Getting shot at was most likely on the list of strenuous activities. Booth checked the time. It was eleven o'clock. He needed to get them home. Booth checked in with the supervising agent, who assured him that he would be kept in the loop. After commandeering a police officer to take them home, Booth went to get his partner and son.

"Bones, I got us a ride." Her gaze remained unfocused.

"I called Angela. She won't pick up her phone. I was going to see if I could stay at her place tonight. But maybe that's not such a good idea. I don't want her to get hurt."

"You're crashing with me tonight."

"No." Brennan finally drew her eyes up to Booth. "It could be a detriment to our professional integrity." She was still whipping out some pretty big words, despite the ordeal they'd just been through.

"You won't have any professional integrity if you're dead, either!" He didn't mean to raise his voice; he just cared about her so damn much. Parker stirred. "I'm sorry, Bones. Just please trust me." Brennan nodded in resignation and rose to her feet. "How's he doing?"

"He needs his mother." Booth called Rebecca about thirty minutes before and left a voicemail. He was quite nervous about her reaction. This could be the breaking point. Parker had been in real danger. It was nauseating to think that he might never see his son again.

"I think you're doing a fine job. You want me to take him?" Brennan shook her head as she hugged Parker a little closer. He put his arm around her waist for support and led them to their escort. Within minutes, they were on their way to Booth's place.

He watched her all the way there. She was worrying him. Booth expected her to be upset. Brennan hadn't cried after the shooting, instead she seemed to shrink inside herself. Booth didn't want to make her cry, but he wanted to see some kind of release. He was fairly sure that she was in shock. The confident scientist that he was so familiar with had disappeared to some dark place that he was afraid he couldn't reach. But, as the saying goes, Love is the antidote for all things. Things were changing between them, there was no doubt. Booth just had to find her again before she sank too deep. That very night, Seeley Booth would save Temperance Brennan from herself.

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You all know how I feel about reviews. They make me happy, happy, happy. And when _I'm_ happy, it makes for happy readers. 


	9. Pain, Parker and Pancakes

**A/N:** Thanks to all who reviewed. I saw a lot of new names, nice to meet you. And special thanks to those who have reviewed almost every chapter.

READER'S CHOICE: I have a problem. There are two ways I can go with this story, I just can't decide. They both end happily, of course. One option is slightly darker and the other... is not. If you have a preference, let me know.

Parker's line about love was inspired by a four-year-old girl that I keep. Oh yeah, you'll find out about Ange and Jack in the next chapter.

Credit to rightersblock.

Thus continues the longest night in the history of mankind.

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Brennan had been to Booth's place so many times before but this time was different. This time, she absolutely _needed _to be there. The apartment was modest but the love that was present was worth more than anything. Unlike her apartment, it felt lived in. Pictures on the walls and side tables revealed that Parker's life was filled with colorful events and activities even at his tender age. The bookshelf was stocked with legal texts and fiction mingled with such classics as _Goodnight, Moon_ and the whole _I Spy_ series. Several trucks of various sizes, a few puzzles and one worn, stuffed frog were scattered about the small living room. Though Booth only had Parker for a little bit of time, his apartment appeared to always remember the child, even when he wasn't there. 

Brennan could hear Booth's soothing voice coming from Parker's room. He'd been trying to get his son to fall asleep for about thirty minutes. She could see into the room from the couch, where she was now sitting. Every time Booth stood to leave, Parker reached for him and whimpered. He wouldn't say anything, despite his dad's entreaties to tell him what was wrong. Brennan suspected that Booth knew exactly what was turning in the boy's head. He wasn't even old enough to watch violence on TV, yet he had just experienced it in reality. There was no way that Parker could understand what had happened. All he knew was the fear. Brennan wished she felt the same.

Studying the frog on the floor, it occurred to her that it looked too well-loved to simply be a toy. Brennan picked it up and slowly entered Parker's room. Booth's tired face turned towards her as she stood uncomfortably just inside the door.

"What is it?" Brennan handed him the frog.

"Children often have special things that they… depend on for… security." Brennan struggled with the words. She watched in fascination as the Parker took the stuffed animal, pressed it to his chest and closed his eyes. Booth rose from the side of the bed and moved to where Brennan was, watching his son the entire time.

"Thanks." Brennan nodded once and left the room. She could feel Booth following her. Everything was so quiet. Brennan felt that the peace would be broken at any moment by more gunfire. A few hours before, silence was her haven. Now it was a waking nightmare. "You can take a shower if you want." She nodded again and followed him into the bedroom. Booth quickly gathered some things for her including a pair of sweatpants and an Army t-shirt. She soon found herself alone in the bathroom. Turning on the shower, she undressed as steam filled the small room. Brennan stepped under the stream of water and let it pour over her. The tears finally came. There in Booth's shower, Temperance Brennan broke down. She hadn't allowed herself to do that in a long time. The tears came from some place in her heart that had stayed hidden from the light for too long. The recent events and Booth had brought it to the surface again.

She wasn't sure how long she stood there like that. It must have been a while because Brennan heard a knock on the door accompanied by Booth's voice.

"Bones? Are you okay?" As if he could see her, she rubbed at her eyes and tried to stop the tears from flowing.

"I'm fine. I'll be out in a minute."

- - -

Booth was sitting in a chair in the corner of the bedroom, staring at pictures of Parker, when Brennan exited the bathroom. What he found when he looked at her shook him to the core. His clothes were much too big for her, making her appear small and vulnerable. Her wet hair had been pulled back from her face in a bun. It only served to accent the redness of her eyes, clear evidence that she had been crying. Booth shook himself from his study.

"I put clean sheets on the bed, so whenever you want to go to sleep…"

"Booth, I'm not taking your bed from you. I'll sleep on the couch." Her jaw was set in determination. Why did she have to be so stubborn?

"No. If someone breaks in and you're on the couch, they could kill you or take you and I wouldn't know." Booth wasn't expecting an outburst. His emotions were running away with him lately. With a sigh, he collected some clothes. Brennan was already climbing into the bed as he went to take a shower. She was learning to listen to him and trust his instincts, though he knew it was hard for her.

Booth came out of the bathroom fifteen minutes later wearing shorts and a t-shirt. He found that the light was out and Brennan was curled up under the covers with her back to him. She had turned on his clock radio to some R&B channel. Her rhythmic breathing told him that she was asleep. He flicked the radio off so it wouldn't bother her in the morning.

"No." Her voice startled him. "It's too quiet."

"Sorry, I thought you were asleep."

"I can't sleep." She turned over to face him. A few seconds passed while Booth debated with himself.

"Bones… what's wrong?" _Other than the fact that someone tried to kill you._

"It's two o'clock in the morning, Booth."

"Talk to me, please." Booth knelt beside the bed so that he was on eye-level with her. "If you don't talk about it, it's just going to get worse." Brennan wouldn't meet his gaze. "Please." To his amazement, she scooted towards the middle of the bed, clearly making a place for him. Booth wasn't sure of their new boundaries, so he lay down on top of the covers, allowing plenty of space between them. After he was settled, he waited for her to begin. She didn't.

"Bones?" In yet another surprise, Brennan took hold of his closest hand. He wanted to close the distance so badly, but he restrained himself.

"I… I don't know what happened. I've been in so many dangerous places. I've been shot at before. It's nothing new." Brennan closed her eyes. Booth was aching for her. "It's not that your protection is meaningless."

"You've had armies at your service." Booth smiled slightly.

"I have. I've never been so close like that." Brennan shuddered and all he could do was to squeeze her hand. "But it's not just that. There was Parker." He watched as she bit her lip, trying not to cry.

"He'll be fine."

"You don't know that. He was holding onto me so tightly. He was terrified. A child can't process that." It wasn't easy for Booth to hear about his son's experience. It was easier for him to not think about what Parker might have been feeling.

"What else?"

"Nothing."

"I know you left something out. You can get over all those things. There's something deeper." Brennan completely fell apart under his scrutiny. That was all that Booth could handle. Dropping her hand, he crossed the gap between them and put his arm over her, pulling her against him. Her arms found their way around him. He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, whispering comforts. Booth had seen her cry before, but never like this. This was raw emotion.

They stayed that way for a seemingly endless time. Brennan finally pulled her head back. "I thought I was going to have to watch you die." That was the last thing he expected to hear. "And then I could only wish that they would kill me first. I'm so afraid… that I'm going to lose you." Brennan had opened up to him on numerous occasions, but it was never this honest. "I don't know what I would do if you weren't there. I couldn't…"

"Temperance." Her full name escaped Booth's lips in a breath, stopping her torrent of words. "I'm right here. We're both going to be fine." His hand was on the side of her face, his thumb stroking her damp cheek. There was a loyalty and trust burning in her cool blue eyes. "I promise."

"I believe you." That simple statement meant everything. Booth placed his forehead against hers again. Brennan was still crying, but she had calmed down considerably. How could they be so close and still be afraid to take that final step? He wouldn't force it. They had naturally grown together, especially in the last week. God, it had only been a week since all the madness had started? Booth willed himself to stop thinking about the situation.

Neither of them moved nor spoke for a long time. Booth was sure she'd fallen asleep. He didn't want to leave, but wasn't sure if Brennan would be comfortable finding him there in the morning. Slowly, he extracted himself from her arms and sat up. Brennan was awake, he promptly discovered.

"Booth?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you stay with me?" Booth understood the need for physical reassurance. He needed it too. In answer to her question, he laid back down his back and tugged at her to come closer. Brennan settled against him and pillowed her head on his shoulder. It was the best night's sleep that either of them had had.

- - -

It was close to eight when weight shifted on the bed, rousing Brennan from her sleep. She was so warm and content. Booth's chest was rising and falling beneath her and his arm cradled her comfortably. Brennan didn't want to move, but was forced to raise her head when something touched her foot. Parker was sitting at the end of the bed with his frog. She supposed that he was observing them. Though he was too young to understand fully, Brennan was sure that he had some idea what was going on.

He looked at her uncertainly when he realized that he'd been discovered. Brennan patted the space next to her and rolled over to face him. She noticed that his pajamas had some odd-looking blue animal on them. She whispered in an attempt to keep Booth from waking.

"Who is that?" Brennan pointed to the creature on his shirt.

"Stitch." The boy followed her example and whispered back. "This is my frog. His name is Froggy."

"That's a nice name."

"Are you going to marry my daddy?" The innocent question caught her entirely off-guard.

"Maybe." _Maybe_? Where had that come from? Since when did she approve of the social institution of marriage?

"Do you like dinosaurs?"

"I like dinosaur bones. I helped dig one up." Actually, she had excavated the human skull that was next to it, but she didn't think she should tell him that.

"Dr. Bones, I love you." Parker said it so matter-of-factly and there was open admiration in his eyes. She wished she could be so sure of her feelings.

"I love you too, Parker." The boy's face split into a wide grin that made her smile as well.

"Hey, hey, what's going on over there?" Brennan panicked momentarily. How much had he heard? "Is there a rugrat in the bed?" Parker giggled, making her forget her worry. Booth sat up behind her.

"No, daddy, it's Parker."

"Parker? Who's Parker? Bones, do you know a Parker?"

"Never heard of him." She sat up as Booth jumped grabbed the little boy. He held him upside down and tickled him.

"Dr. Bones!" Parker was screeching with laughter. "Help me!" Brennan did the first thing that came to her mind. She tackled him. Booth released Parker, who began helping with the attack. After some wrestling, Booth was 'over-powered'. He was flat on his back with Brennan laying on one arm and Parker sitting on his chest.

"Okay, I surrender." Booth laughed.

"Does that mean you're making breakfast?"

"Pancakes! Daddy, I want pancakes." Parker patted his father's shoulder. He slid off the bed, still chanting about pancakes.

"Look what you started." They sat up together.

"Sorry." Booth smirked at her as they left the bedroom.

"That just means that you're making the bacon."

"Bacon!" Parker was running wildly around the living room.

"Is he always like this?"

"He's in love, Bones, what can you expect?" Brennan smacked his arm at the tease. Thirty minutes later, they were sitting at the kitchen table. Parker's hands were sticky with syrup even before he started eating and he managed to sneak six packets of sugar into Booth's coffee. Brennan had never been so content with chaos. It was the deceptive calm before the storm.

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Reviews are better than purple hippos. Don't forget that I need your opinion. 


	10. Ultimatum

**A/N: **I beg your forgiveness. I know this chapter is way, way overdue. I'm out of school and let's just say that I don't operate well (ie. productively) without structure. I finally finished this, though. I hope I still have some readers out there after my little hiatus.

Oh, by the way, congratulations on passing the hundred mark on reviews. Thank you, thank you!

No beta this time. She's MIA and I didn't want to keep you guys waiting too long.

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The sunny morning had given way to a gray afternoon. A cold rain was just starting to fall just as Booth got out of the new, silver FBI-issued SUV he had picked up that morning. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at where he was. Only Hodgins could conjure up a meeting place so dramatic. He was parked under an overpass that was part of the Anacostia Freeway. Booth caught a glimpse of the Potomac as he walked across the packed dirt that covered the ground. The dirt exposed to the rain was already turning into a thin, slippery mud. The four-wheel drive could use a test-run, he figured. 

Booth tried the door that was built into the concrete wall. It was locked. Paintball was a big sport down here, he figured. The walls and even the door itself were splattered with multi-colored explosions. He'd have to check it out sometime. His thoughts on the subject ceased as Jack's Mini rolled in from the rain. With a wry smile, Booth thought it would be interesting to see the toy car try to handle the mud. Keys clinked hastily as a flustered Hodgins practically jumped out of the car.

"Hey, man. Sorry I'm late, they were tailing me." Booth raised an eyebrow as Hodgins fumbled to find the right key.

"Do I want to know why and how you have a key to a place like this?"

"I wouldn't tell you even if you wanted to know." Booth raised his hands in mock surrender. The lock clicked and the door swung inward. "How are Brennan and the kid?" Hodgins flipped a light switch up, bringing to life two fluorescent strips at each end of the long, narrow room.

"Bones and _Parker_ are a little shaken up, but I think they'll be fine." Booth looked at the place around him. Exposed pipes covered almost every inch of the crumbling concrete. The token water drip could be heard. Besides a few rusty toolboxes and various construction paraphernalia, the paintball players obviously used the room as storage. "Do you know who plays paintball here?"

"Don't ask me things like that. You're not even supposed to be here."

"Then why'd you tell me to come here?"

"It's secure and what we're about to discuss is worth an ass-chewing." Hodgins waved at a small security camera mounted in the corner. Two chairs were soon produced from a closet on the back wall and placed around a shabby card table in the center of the room. From his messenger bag, Hodgins pulled out a piece of paper and a picture. "I _know_ that everything that's happened is connected."

"I think you're right. We don't usually have the Jeffersonian robbed, Bones in the hospital, Max Keenan reappearing and an attempted assassination all in the same week. It's a bit past normal, random occurrences." Booth picked up the note. "Now when did you get this?"

"About the same time you were making Alexandria's crime rate skyrocket." The agent furrowed his brow as he read the disturbing note.

_Dr. Jack Hodgins:_

_We know what you do. We know who one of your informants is and we have some business with him. You have one chance to contact the man who gave you the information about the club downtown. Do not call the police or speak to Agent Booth on this matter. Schedule a meeting for sometime next week at Arlington Cemetery. Just remember what exactly is at stake for you._

"Did you tell Angela?" Booth picked up the picture of an oblivious, happy Angela.

"I was going to, but she got all worried about you guys and then I thought maybe I shouldn't."

"At least tell her to be careful." Hodgins swiped the picture and put it back into the bag in exchange for a laptop.

"She's not going anywhere alone until this is over."

"Could be a while." Booth watched as Hodgins flipped open the laptop. "What club are they talking about?"

"It's a trendy club downtown where plenty of people in the know hang out. They walk right into a well-laid trap every night. The place is rigged to the ceiling with all sorts of surveillance equipment. I counted thirty-one cameras, but there's probably more. Listening devices under every table. These guys are getting every particle of dirt from the Hill. And believe me, I know my dirt."

"Whoa, whoa. I thought you just knew about this place. You went there?" The disbelieving look on Booth's face was almost comical.

"Angela dragged me there. I didn't think that all this would happen. Obviously, we triggered some bad feelings."

"Obviously."

"This is the article I wrote on the place. Got pretty good reviews." Hodgins turned the laptop and pushed it in front of Booth.

"That's wonderful." Skimming through the article, Booth's eyes gravitated to one name: Andre Rovetto. Where did he know that name? He had seen it so recently. "Who is this Rovetto?"

"How can you not know that name? You're an FBI agent!"

"I think I do know it, I'm just not sure where I saw it."

"Andre Rovetto is only one of the most successful leaders of organized crime in this city. He's run countless operations, but apparently, you guys can't seem to be able to pin anything on him. I think someone's covering his butt. He has a mole in the FBI." Booth almost rolled his eyes. Almost, because he was half-afraid that it was actually true.

"I don't work in the organized crime unit, okay?" He couldn't help the defensive tone. Booth was too busy running down a list of criminals in his head to be patient. "I have to get to the Bureau so I can look up this name."

"Wait. What should I do? What are you going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"They're after Dr. Brennan as well for some reason. What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to figure out who and why and either arrest them or blow them away."

"But what are you doing with her? Are you going to send her to a safe-house or something?" Booth leaned back in his chair and literally laughed out loud.

"Hodgins, seriously, this is Bones we're talking about. I would have to sedate her to get her there and then bring in the army to keep her there." Hodgins raised an eyebrow and chuckled. Booth sobered quickly. "She's going to be safe though. Nothing is going to happen to her. I'll be her army." The sudden intensity in the room was palpable.

"Hey, man, that's great, whatever. I just want to know what Angela and I should do. I'm not exactly locking and loading, you know?"

"Let's wait a few days. I don't think you're in immediate danger. I'll put a few men on her apartment, if that makes you feel any better. They'll be invisible."

"Do I set up the meeting?"

"Yeah. I'll have a squad out there. We can set you up with a mike and we'll see if they show up to take the guy."

"No, that's too big of a risk. It could get messy. Let them take the guy and be done with it." Hodgins closed down his laptop and put it back in the bag.

"You're going to let one of your own go to slaughter?"

"It's the nature of the business, an unfortunate loss." Booth studied his face. If anyone was going to die, it was going to be the other man. Hodgins rose from his seat and shoved it back in the closet. Booth stood as well.

"What if the guy is smart and doesn't show? You're going to end up dead."

"Damned if I do, damned if I don't, huh?" Hodgins threw the second chair into the closet. It slammed into the wall with a resounding thud and was probably rendered unusable. "As long as it's not Angela. If I don't try, it's Angela that they're going after. That can't happen. Period."

The metal door clanged shut as the two men silently exited. The rain was a steady downfall. The cars on the road above could be heard speeding through puddles on the pavement. The scientist left first, on a mission to get back to his girlfriend. Skidding slightly on the mud, the small red car soon disappeared from sight.

The FBI agent, blending in with the weather in a gray jacket and jeans, leaned wearily against the SUV, with a mind on someone who wasn't his girlfriend. His head rested against the driver's side window as he allowed himself a moment to relax. Booth imagined wistfully that the rain was washing everything away. Though he wanted to remain blissfully unaware for just another minute, Booth forced himself to open his eyes and get in the car. He then remembered the illusive name and drove away towards the J. Edgar Hoover building with purpose.

- - - -

"You and Booth slept in the _same bed_?" Angela grabbed Brennan's arm excitedly. Her friend had gone from one extreme to another. She'd arrived in a frazzled state, but once she was certain of Brennan's well-being she'd demanded details. Brennan had just gotten to the happenings of that morning when all control was lost in an explosion similar to that of a nuclear power plant.

"Angela!" Brennan glanced at Parker on the floor, making sure he was still absorbed in his train set. "It was completely platonic and meaningless." She said the words but was well aware that they held no weight. Being with Booth was the only thing that was meaningful, outside of her friends and her job.

"I'm sure." Brennan's answer to Angela's cheeky grin was cut short by a hasty knock on the door. Parker was immediately on alert and jumped up.

"Can I open the door, Dr. Bones?" Brennan rushed to get to the door before the boy.

"Parker, wait for me." She looked through the peephole, her heart suddenly in her throat. Rebecca was on the other side of the door. Brennan had no time to formulate a response to her presence. Little hands made quick work of the deadbolt and the door opened to reveal the worried mother.

"Mommy!" Brennan felt an unfamiliar pang at seeing the child's exuberance. She squashed it with a bout of rationality. Of course a child's strongest attachment is to its mother. They had co-existed for nine months, one physically dependent and one emotionally dependent. Her own interaction with Parker didn't extend past two days and a trauma. Nothing but blind and shallow attachment could be expected.

"Oh, my God, Parker." The blonde knelt down to his level and hugged him. "Are you okay, baby? I came as soon as I heard." Pulling away, Rebecca smoothed her son's unruly hair away from his face. Brennan couldn't help but wonder why Rebecca was only just hearing about the ordeal. It was late in the afternoon, implying that she had either ignored her phone or was asleep. Either avenue didn't reflect very well on her reputation as a mother.

"Daddy said that some bad men were shooting at us. But it's okay. Daddy says none of the bad men will hurt me." Parker stepped back from his mother. "And Dr. Bones says I'm a very brave boy." Rebecca turned to Brennan as if noticing her for the first time.

"Baby, you can go play a little bit more while I talk to Dr. Brennan." Parker raced back to his trains and could be heard begging 'Miss Angie' to play with him. He didn't have to ask more than once. "What happened?"

"Someone tried to kill me." Brennan took advantage of Rebecca's shocked silence to plunge forward. "Please don't take Parker away from Booth. It would kill him and it's not his fault. Parker is safe."

"Really?" Doubt tinged her voice. Rebecca crossed her arms. "Look, Dr. Brennan, I like you. The problem is that Seeley does too. He's a good man and he won't let you down, especially you in particular. But you seem to attract trouble. So if my son is with his father and his father is with you, then, no, Dr. Brennan, Parker is not safe." A slap would have been far less painful for Brennan to deal with. She looked at the ground, more deflated than she'd felt in a long time, despite the recent turn of events.

"I understand." Tears would have come to her eyes, but Brennan had none left. She had done enough of that. A cell phone could be heard ringing in the other room.

"I'm sorry to put Seeley in this position, but frankly, he put himself there." Angela sidled past the pair, whispering to Brennan that she had to get back to her apartment.

"Call me later, sweetie." Sympathetic eyes met Brennan's and then she was gone. Meanwhile, Rebecca was gathering Parker's things.

"Parker, let's go."

"Is Dr. Bones coming with us?" Brennan moved to the kitchen, foolishly hoping that the distance would sever her ties.

"No, Dr. Brennan has things to do."

"But you said that I could stay with Daddy for two days." Parker's voice was rising with his desperation.

"Me and your daddy have to have a talk." Brennan braced herself against the counter, still making a futile attempt to feel nothing. "Come on, Parker, get Froggy and let's go."

"No, Mommy." She could hear the tears in his voice. Brennan couldn't stand it any more and moved to the kitchen door. Rebecca had picked him up and was about to grab the rest of his things. Parker spotted her in the kitchen and wiggled out of his mother's arms. "Dr. Bones, I don't want to go." He stood in front of her, holding both of her hands plaintively. She could only look at him. There was nothing else she could do.

"Parker, now. Say goodbye." Brennan extracted her hands.

"Bye, Parker." She hated herself for making his face fall with disappointment. He may have only been a child, but he knew the basic signs of rejection. Parker turned away, his lower lip trembling. As hard as she tried, Brennan couldn't allow herself to let him leave like that. "Parker." She lowered herself to his height. Parker accepted the unspoken invitation and crashed into her. Brennan closed her eyes to avoid Rebecca as the child hugged her neck.

Parker released her after an endless moment. Brennan rose and collected herself. The door soon closed behind them and she was left alone. Rebecca's words seemed to echo off of every wall, mocking her short-lived happiness. Booth wouldn't have any trouble making the choice. Brennan made a split decision. She was gone in two minutes.

* * *

There's a button down there that's calling for you. Can you hear it? 


	11. Fight or Flight

**A/N:** Hola, guys. I know, I know, updating pretty quick. Be proud. Anyhow, this chapter is a little bit darker. It does contain some stronger language than normal. I won't make it a habit. I didn't get very much feedback on which way to go with the story but I think I'm leaning towards the darker version. It's more interesting that way. However, this is my disclaimer. **You have to trust me.** I am a firm believer in happy endings. Just remember that.

Thanks for the reviews! I got some from people I haven't heard from in a while. Nice to know that I've kept my early readers. I'm so excited for you all as you keep reading this story. Believe me, it's gonna be a hell of a roller-coaster ride. I just hope my muse can hang on with all the twists and turns coming up.

I found rightersblock. She wasn't MIA as previously thought. My email is messed up. Well, she was beta on this one, so hope you like it better than the last one.

* * *

The first thing that Jack did after leaving Booth was make a phone call. When the phone was answered, a happy, childish voice could be heard in the background. Angela herself, on the other hand, sounded rather stressed. 

"Where are you and what's going on?" The rain pelted against the windshield as he merged onto the Anacostia Parkway. The late afternoon was prematurely darkened from the thick clouds. The weatherman was calling for severe thunderstorms all night. Lightning, thunder and all. Angela had told him that she hated the eeriness of storms, especially after watching the witch hunt video.

"I'm playing with Parker and Bren is taking crap from Rebecca."

"You're over at Booth's?"

"Yeah, Brennan invited me for lunch."

"How about I meet you at your apartment? There's a storm coming through, remember?"

"Okay. Can you pick up some sandwiches or something for later?"

"Yeah. I'll be there in about thirty minutes." After saying goodbye, Hodgins closed the phone and tossed it into the cup holder. He didn't really feel like stopping anywhere, but if it was what Angela wanted… well, then that was the end of all complaints. Hodgins changed lanes and began to fiddle with the radio. He found a political talk show and was soon exiting the freeway while laughing at the naivety of the radio host and his opponent.

- - - -

Booth swiped his ID card for the private Bureau parking deck. The gate opened and he drove into the gloom of the artificially lit cave. The yellow lighting cast dark shadows across the near-empty complex. Booth passed right by his assigned parking space and chose one right next to the door. He could get in trouble for the action but the walk across the dim parking deck was something to be avoided. Grabbing his briefcase from the backseat, he locked the car and started up the stairs. Once he reached the lobby, he took the elevator to his floor. A light was on across the bullpen where a small conference was in progress. Other than that, only a few lamps were lit over deserted desks, their owners probably in briefings or out for coffee. Booth recalled a time when he diligently appeared at work every Saturday and occasionally on Sundays. That had stopped after Parker was born. There was nothing that Booth wouldn't sacrifice for Parker. He had no idea he would be forced to defy that for the first time in his son's life.

- - - -

Jack pulled out his wallet to pay for the tuna on wheat and turkey on sourdough. It took him a second to find a twenty among the fifties and hundreds. Angela scolded him for carrying so much cash. That was one thing he wouldn't change. There was no telling when emergency cash was necessary or when the banks would finally crash, for that matter. The bleary-eyed teenager behind the counter accepted the money and counted out the change. It was taking a little too long for Jack's liking.

"You know what? Why don't you just keep that? It's a tip."

"Hey, thanks, man." The kid pocketed the extra six dollars. Jack took the brown paper bag containing the sandwiches and walked out. The door jingled as it opened. He was surprised at how dark it had gotten. It was only four o'clock and already like night. A popular bar was next to the deli, so Jack had been forced to park further down the street. He stayed close to the shop-fronts, taking advantage of the overhangs to stay out of the rain. The sidewalk was well-lit. Jack distractedly watched the rain fall in the lamplight. There was entirely too much on his mind. As much as he loved finding the truth behind the lies, it didn't excite him one bit when he found himself and his girlfriend right in the middle of a full-blown criminal plot. And there was some deeper element that he was missing, something that would connect all of the bizarre happenings.

Jack unlocked his car and climbed inside, placing the bag in the passenger seat. He was just putting the key in the ignition when he was startled by a voice from the backseat. "I'm here to warn you, Dr. Hodgins." Trying to turn in his seat, the man shoved him so that he was facing forward again. The man then reached up and violently twisted the rearview mirror upward. "Don't look at me. I'm not going to hurt you."

"What the hell…" Hodgins felt that his heart would beat out of his chest.

"You and I are on the same side." The voice sounded vaguely familiar.

"How can I be sure of that?" Hodgins tried to include a fearless edge to his voice but was failing at it.

"Because I'm going to save your life." Hodgins remained silent, waiting for the man to explain himself. "You're supposed to meet me in Arlington this week."

"You're my…"

"Quiet! I don't have much time and neither do you. They know you've talked with Agent Booth. You broke the rules and they're coming for you and your girlfriend, possibly as soon as tonight. You need to get as far away from D.C. as you can." The man made a move for the door handle. Hodgins' next words appeared to make him hesitate with the action.

"What about Dr. Brennan and Booth?" There was a moment of uncertain silence. The man lacked some of his former confidence.

"I'm taking care of that. Look, I have to go. I'm sorry this has turned out the way it has. I shouldn't have given you the information in the first place. But I guess there's a lot of things I shouldn't have done." The man opened the door, letting in a blast of chilly air.

"Who are you?" Despite the unspoken rule of anonymity, Hodgins wanted to know the identity of this intriguing character who had caused so much turmoil.

"You'd better hurry home." The door slammed and the dark figure quickly blended with the murk. The Mini roared to life and raced away in the opposite direction.

- - - -

Booth swiped his ID card again to unlock his office. He entered and shut the door behind him. Keeping the lights off, he turned on his computer and connected to the FBI's secure network. It only took a few minutes for him to enter the parameters of the search. The file had been updated recently. Booth could feel a chill on the back of his neck as he opened it. The latest addition to Andre Revetto's shady reputation was an unconfirmed association with a fraud ring which extended from Virginia, Maryland and even into parts of Delaware. Of course, nothing solid. The next entry didn't spark any revelations either. This guy had his hands in everything. Booth continued scanning the list. Once he got to events from a few years prior, he decided that he'd gone too far. Booth was sure that this was something recent. Booth adjusted the search to include the whole D.C. branch of the mob family instead of only Andre. There were twenty-three hits. The Rovettos must have been an impressive family considering that number was only the family members with criminal records. An hour later, Booth's tired eyes came to life and he sat up straighter as a tidal wave of dread and shock washed over him. An illusive piece of the deadly puzzle fell into its horrible place.

- - - -

Jack got to Angela's apartment a lot faster than was legal. The sandwiches were forgotten in the car, though they would come in handy for their getaway. He burst in the door only to find a dark apartment. Fear ate at him. It never occurred to him that he might be too late. Making his way to the living room, he saw the back of Angela's head resting against the arm of the couch.

"Ange?" Hodgins said her name timidly, afraid that there would never be an answer. There was no noise other than the sound of his breathing. He tentatively approached the couch. "Angela?" Raising his voice, he stepped around the couch so he could see her. She was curled on her side facing away from him, eyes closed. Her loose hair spilled across her face. Jack's hand quivered as her hesitated in touching her, terrified that he would find her cold and lifeless. He finally forced himself to touch her and almost died of both relief and fright when Angela whipped her head towards him and shattered the silence with a small, sharp, scream. "Oh, thank God."

"Jack, you scared me. Don't do that." Angela sat up, removing her earphones and turning off her mp3 player. It took only a second for Jack to recover before remembering the task at hand.

"Ange, pack a bag. I need you to move quickly. Bare basics and necessities only."

"What's wrong?" He could see the fear on her face and regretted that he had to put it there.

"I'll tell you in the car. Now hurry." Hodgins was thankful for her trust in him as she ran to her bedroom. Jack always kept a packed bag in his car, so he collected some smaller, but essential items. Cell phone charger, Angela's GPS, and other various electronics. In fifteen minutes, they were in Jack's car heading west. He explained every last agonizing detail as they ran for their lives and love.

- - - -

As Jack and Angela were making their escape, Booth was making a flight of his own. He printed the file 'Rovetto, Lena' and made a dash for the door. The elevator took an eternity to reach sublevel one where he was parked. The twenty minute drive to his apartment took thirteen minutes despite the beginnings of evening traffic. Booth skipped the ancient elevator and bounded up the stairs three at a time. Trying the door handle, Booth found with satisfaction that Brennan had kept it locked. Booth shifted impatiently from one foot to the other as he sorted through his keys with one hand. The door swung open after he found the correct key.

The lights were off. Booth was immediately on alert but tried not to overreact. He shut the door behind him and dropped the file on the end-table next to the couch. Maybe Parker had gone down for a nap and Brennan was taking advantage of the quiet to do the same. A peek into Parker's room disproved this theory.

"Bones?" The bedroom and the bathroom yielded nothing. The apartment was empty and Booth was rapidly becoming frantic. It would be sickeningly easy for someone to escape unnoticed from his apartment complex with a woman and a little boy. He was ashamed of the thought as soon as it came into his head. It was a cold day in hell when Temperance Brennan would go down without a fight. Booth took a few breaths to calm himself. They went to get some dinner, he decided. Brennan was independent and foolishly confident enough to go somewhere without calling him first.

Booth pulled his cell phone out and dialed her number. He sat down on the couch as he listened to it ring over and over. Cursing under his breath at her voicemail greeting, he left a quick message and hung up. Resting his head in his hands, Booth stared at the floor, trying to think. He jumped to action again, fingers dialing another number, as a one last idea came to him. A few months before, much to Booth's chagrin, Parker had proudly displayed a little device with five big buttons. It was a damn cell phone. He had started an argument over the thing. Rebecca claimed that it made her feel better to know that Parker had a way to call either of them if there was an emergency. Booth had finally conceded, though he didn't give her the satisfaction of thinking that he approved. He was certainly thankful for it now. Parker's childish voice answered on the third ring.

"Hi, Daddy." His normal cheerfulness was noticeably absent.

"Hey, buddy. Where are you?"

"McDonald's. I got a penguin toy in my Happy Meal." Booth relaxed his hand, which he was unaware that he had tightened into a fist.

"So you're with Bones?"

"No, Mommy made me go away." There was a distinct sadness present. "Dr. Bones is at your house."

"Yeah. Can I talk to Mommy?" Raking his hand through his hair, Booth was keenly aware of his racing pulse. The phone shifted hands and Rebecca came on the line.

"I'm sorry, Seeley, I picked him up early. I should have called."

"No shit."

"I was freaking out. I mean he could have…"

"Look, you can talk your head off later. Was Bones here when you left?"

"If you're referring to Dr. Brennan, then yes."

"Did she say she was going anywhere?"

"No." He heard her sigh, which made him even angrier. "Seeley, Dr. Brennan is an adult. She doesn't need a babysitter. Maybe she went back to her place. I think she was a little upset."

"Do you know why?" There was that sigh again.

"Seeley, we need to have a serious discussion about your visitation with Parker."

"Rebecca, what the hell did you say to her?" Booth stood from the couch and began pacing the area.

"It seems like she's always in some kind of danger. If you're going to continue to see her outside of work, I don't think it's a good idea for Parker to be with you." There was silence. Booth felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. Rebecca was asking him to choose? His anger lulled as he considered her words. The desperation that found him was enough to empty his mind of everything else. It was impossible. He needed his son with every fiber of his being. Parker was the one person who managed to show him that the world wasn't so frightfully dark as he sometimes thought. And Bones was… essential. That was the single word that came to him. She was like air or water or sunlight. Simply and unequivocally essential. Booth could absolutely not make a choice between two indispensable people. "Seeley? Are you still there?"

"Yeah." He collected himself and tried to figure out what to say. "I have to agree with you. Bones needs me to protect her right now and I don't want Parker mixed up with this crap."

"Thank you."

"But you listen to me. As soon as I nail these sons of bitches, that policy is not going to fly. You cannot force me to make that kind of a decision."

"We can talk about…"

"Rebecca, there will be no negotiating. I have put up with your share of boyfriends. Bones is going to be a hell of a lot more permanent than any of them were." The anger that had been left to simmer was suddenly boiling again.

"Do not judge me, Seeley Booth. You've no right."

"And you had no right to tell Bones that shit."

"I thought it was fair to let her know."

"You pushed her into making that decision for me." It broke his heart to know that Brennan had left because of this. She obviously had no confidence in herself when it came to their relationship. "You don't know a thing about her or how she thinks. She's gone now because of you."

"I don't think you know very much about her, either." Rebecca's voice dropped to a near whisper. "You're always having to save her ass from something. That's not normal. And apparently, she knows nothing about you or she wouldn't hang around so much, you murdering bastard."

"Fuck you." Booth hung up the phone and would have thrown it had he possessed less self-control. He hoped to God that Rebecca hadn't said those things in front of Parker. His past as a sniper was something he planned on keeping from his son for a long time.

Pacing one more circuit, he squashed his rage. Selfishness was unacceptable. He had to find Brennan. Booth made sure he had his keys and then rushed out. The door slammed closed behind him, leaving a certain forgotten file sitting on the table in a dark, empty apartment.

* * *

Review. Is it in you? 


	12. Pressure Points

**A/N:** Ok, gang. My first order of business is to apologize. Several of you expressed concern that Brennan was out of character in the last few chapters. I sincerely apologize for that injustice if you felt it. Looking back, I do realize that I skewed her a little. Hopefully, this chapter gets me back in the land of happy reviewers. However, I would like you all to remember that I am molding the characters. If characters don't experience a little bit of change throughout a story, then nothing has happened. The point is for the characters to grow. This certainly does not give me license to recreate or murder the original character. So, don't be mad, our beloved Tempe is only changing for the better.

Now, some of you wanted Zack to show up-- check

Some of you wanted kick-ass Brennan-- check

Some of you wanted to kill Rebecca-- no check. Don't hate her, she's just doing what she thinks is best for her son. She'll come around, you'll see. Besides, cute Parker conversations can still happen over the phone...

I've been sick lately, which is why my last two chapters felt (to me at least) a little uninspired. Well, I'm really excited about this chapter... so I'll let you read it now.

Kudos to rightersblock for getting this back to me asap. BTW, Sal Girardi is my original character. Don't know how many appearances he'll make. I kinda like the old guy.

* * *

"Dr. Brennan. I didn't expect to see you here today." Zack cleared a space on the worktable in front of him. Brennan set down the cardboard box she was carrying.

"I've been working on restoring these native West African tribal masks for my personal collection." Removing a garish brown and black mask, she started gathering the necessary tools. "I'm afraid I've been neglecting the project lately. And what are you doing here?" Brennan had been absent for a week but everything seemed to be relocated. She banged cabinets open and shut while Zack explained that he was working on a special exhibit for the Jeffersonian benefactors' gala in a few months.

"Dr. Saroyan expressed her absolute confidence in my abilities for such an important and prestigious event."

"I think I prepared you well." Brennan was immersed head and shoulders in a free-standing cabinet against the far wall.

"I agree." Zack scraped a thin layer of dirt away from the artifact, centimeters at a time. "I heard that you and Agent Booth were involved in a standoff last night."

"It wasn't really a standoff. It was more like…" Brennan stopped her rummaging. "Bloody Sunday but without the looting and revolution afterward."

"You were ambushed by Russians?"

"I think you've been spending too much time with Hodgins." She growled in frustration. "Zack, where are those bamboo applicators I ordered last week? They should have been here by now."

"Dr. Brennan, you placed that order yesterday." She looked at her former student in disbelief. She must be losing her mind.

"Are you sure?"

"I had to wait for you to finish placing the order before requesting your opinion on the Mesopotamian remains from the Early Bronze Age."

"Right." Brennan rose and went back to the table. "Well, do we have any left from the last order?"

"No, but there are cocktail sticks in the second drawer over there." As Brennan made her way to the indicated drawer, she was thankful that Zack was there and not someone more socially adept. Zack was efficient in analyzing some social situations, but only from a scientific perspective. He didn't fully understand the gravity of human actions on any real level. It was all facts and logical, predictable actions. Brennan was still like that but was quickly learning that sometimes her dependable science didn't apply. There was a deeper layer to humanity that was illogical and unpredictable. She realized that she was changing and she had been for quite some time. That hidden, other-worldly part of her was rising to the surface and shaping her into a real human being. Brennan decided that she liked it.

A sudden revelation came upon her like a welcome friend and stopped her in her tracks. It had been lurking in her subconscious for so long that it had eventually become the background noise that surrounded her every thought. Booth was her inspiration. The best and the worst came out in his presence. Her personal tragedies and ecstasies were handed over to him for safe-keeping. The soul-wrenching fears that plagued her were cried away in his arms. Brennan was plenty aware of her irrational, illogical, and unscientific train of thought. But that secret, evolving part of her was soaring to the surface and giving her a feeling that she hadn't experienced since before her fifteenth Christmas. Seeley Booth was granting her one, most intimate wish. To love and be loved once again.

"Dr. Brennan? Are you alright?" Zack's creased brow reminded her of where she was.

"Yeah… I'm fine." She hurriedly began putting things away. "I have to go." Snatching up her keys, she bolted for the door. Zack barely acknowledged her abrupt departure, so when Booth entered the lab ten minutes later, he was very confused.

"She was just here. I can't be sure…"

"Bones just up and disappeared?"

"That's not physically possible. Dr. Brennan was somewhat disoriented. Humans in an unstable state of mind often migrate to familiar places."

"This is a familiar place. That's why I came here first." Booth was so thankful that Parker wasn't a genius so that he had some chance for a morsel of common sense.

"Humans go to different places according to their specific distresses. For instance, if Dr. Brennan wanted distraction, she would come here. If she needed emotional or physical comfort, you might find her at your…"

"You know what… Zack… if she comes back here or miraculously reappears, tell her to call me."

Booth sprinted back to his SUV, which was parked sloppily with one wheel on the curbless sidewalk. He sped away in the direction of her apartment, making another attempt to call her. Still no answer. Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as if it would dispel the traffic, Booth turned off the congested main roads. He made fairly quick time on the less-frequented back roads. If that's where she was heading, he might just beat her there. That was one reason he never let her drive. He knew the almost every road in the city. Brennan tended to stick to the freeways, parkways and other traffic-prone avenues. The other reason was that she talked more when she wasn't driving. He loved to listen to her talk, even when it was all sorts of scientific nonsense.

Booth silently commended himself as he pulled into the parking lot of her ritzy complex in record time. He could see her silver sports car parked in her reserved front-row space. Just able to see her retreating form entering the bright lobby, he swung into a space and cut the engine. The doorman waited patiently as Booth fished his ID out of his wallet.

"You must be the new guy." The stoic man offered a curt nod and kept staring straight ahead. This was probably his first job since Buckingham Palace. "You're a talkative one." Booth finally found the piece of plastic and waved it the man's face. The glass door was courteously opened for him.

- - - -

Brennan raised her key to the lock and found that she wouldn't be needing it. The door swung open easily at her touch. She didn't even notice the creaking at the hinges that usually annoyed her. Numbly stepping inside, she surveyed the wreckage with a dull eye. Nothing surprised her any more. The kitchen was destroyed, shards of glass and china covered the hardwood floor and every cupboard had been emptied of its contents. Boxes of cereal and other food items lay on the floor, their entrails spilled out beside them. In the living room, pictures had been torn from the wall and the lamps were smashed. The couch had been ripped open, its overstuffed body now ragged as a skeleton. Her beloved stereo system had been smashed with a blunt object of some sort and every last CD of her extensive collection lay exposed, most likely ruined. Brennan dropped her bag.

She had only stood there for a few seconds when she felt his presence enter the room. It was that electric current she'd noticed as of late that tipped her off. Brennan felt strong, reassuring arms slip around her waist and she leaned back against his chest. Her head was cradled in the crook of his neck and she could hear his steady pulse. Brennan's hands wandered to her waist and she threaded her fingers through his. She only wished that it was a happier moment. It would be perfect. Brennan sighed.

"I'm sorry, Bones."

"Shh." Her entire body tensed and she broke away from him. "Do you hear that? Someone's still here." The soft whisper seemed far too loud for the silence. Brennan looked back at her partner, noticing he looked a little more worried and disheveled since last she saw him. A brief, muffled noise could be heard coming from her room. Booth nodded at her and drew his gun. Motioning for her to stay back, he approached the bedroom with Brennan defiantly trailing. Nothing further was heard except for the sound of controlled, apprehensive breathing. Brennan watched in anticipation as Booth nudged the door open all the way. A metallic taste trickled into her mouth and consciousness as she realized that she was biting her lip.

The silence was deafening. The door swung open slowly. All hell broke loose. A hulking shadow bolted from the room, knocking Booth off balance and sending him to the floor. Brennan reacted with blind instinct. As the man was rushing past her, she jumped towards him with a yell and grabbed his arm. With a knife-hand, she struck at his trachea, effectively halting his retreat and leaving him gasping. It only took him a second to recover and he now focused his energy on her rather than escape. The man was built like a boxer and presented a formidable threat, Brennan now realized. She could see Booth in her peripheral vision. The gun had been knocked from his hand in the fall and he was searching for it in the dark.

"I guess it's just you and me, baby." The shadow's deep voice matched his Mohammed Ali physique. He rushed at her. Brennan was much quicker and ducked behind him, greeting his backside with an elbow to the kidneys. Enraged, he swung around with an extended arm, backhanding her. Brennan fell to the ground, relatively unscathed. When she rose, she stayed low to the ground and ran her full weight into his legs. The effect was that of felling a redwood. She scrambled to execute a choke hold. But the man had too much upper-body strength for her and easily pushed her off.

The wood was hard against her body as he pressed her to the floor, pinning her down with a choke hold of his own. Brennan pressed her palms into his thick shoulders to no avail. Desperately trying to breathe, she fought off the rising panic. All sound was muted and the world moved agonizingly slow as life was falling away. The edges of her vision were fading fast, forcing her to look into her attacker's soulless eyes.

"If we just had a little privacy, we could have some fun." He stroked her hair with the hand that wasn't killing her. Brennan tried to move her legs, but found that they were useless under his weight. Suddenly, the man flew off of her, allowing her to breathe once again. Glancing over, Brennan saw that Booth had abandoned his search and applied a swift kick to the solar plexus. She coughed for a few seconds but hastily jumped to her feet, more determined than ever to, if not win, at least cause some serious pain. Mohammed regained his footing at the same time she did. Brennan thought she heard him growl, though she couldn't be certain.

Obviously, he hadn't learned from his first attempt as he made a second rush. She eluded him once again, this time applying the point of her elbow forcefully to his ribcage. Not allowing him any recovery, she kneed him in the groin. Using this painful distraction to her advantage, Brennan kicked at his lower leg. It was a successful strike to his peroneal nerve that found him on the floor again.

"Bones, I found the gun. Get out of there." Not even Booth could prevent her from finishing the job. Planting a foot on the groaning man's chest, Brennan put all of her weight into a punch that landed squarely on his lower jaw. His head lolled to the side. Booth appeared beside her with the gun.

"Don't worry about him. He'll be out for a while." Brennan scooted to sit a few feet away, trying to catch her breath. The whole thing had lasted only a few minutes, but she felt as if she'd run a marathon. "Mikazuki."

"Mika-what?" Booth was occupied with handcuffing the man.

"It's the Kung-Fu name for the pressure point located on the lower edge of the mandible. An attack to that area leads to concussion and subsequent loss of consciousness and nervous coordination." Brennan started to laugh. She stretched out her legs and leaned back against her arms, quickly finding that she would be very sore in the morning.

"What's so funny over there, Rocky?" Booth couldn't help but to smile at her laughter.

"I don't know what that means." It was strange to say those words. She hadn't said them since both Booth and Angela had committed to making her more culturally aware. The poison of choice for the last TV on DVD marathon had been something called Scrubs, an unrealistic show about a disorderly hospital filled with eccentric doctors. Brennan thought it especially bizarre that they occasionally broke out into a casual song-and-dance routine. But she'd found it funny nonetheless. That was, after her ridiculing questions had been extinguished in favor of watching without any brain activity.

"We're going to have to rent the whole Rocky series next time we're at the video store." He flipped open his phone to make his third call for backup in the last two weeks. "Well, what were you laughing at?"

"Can you tell the police that a woman just subdued a muscular male that was twice her weight and size while her FBI partner floundered in the corner for his gun?"

"Ha, ha." Booth rolled his eyes. "I saved your life, you know."

"I know."

- - - -

"Jesus, Booth. Can't you go one night without getting into some kind of trouble?" The familiar voice drew his attention away from Brennan. A well-built man in his late fifties sauntered over. With distinguished salt-and-pepper hair and a tanned, unlined face that was objectively handsome, Sal Girardi seemed to eternally avoid the cruelty of age.

"What can I say, Sal? It's been one of those weeks." Booth shook the older man's hand with a smile. "How are you? I haven't seen you in so long."

"I'm great. My girls are both in college now. You know how it is; everyone keeps getting older and moving on." Booth glanced at Brennan who was resisting the attentions of a well-meaning young paramedic. He was holding an ice-pack to her swollen and bleeding knuckles while the medic tried to examine her neck. She was sitting on a stool next to the breakfast bar that divided her kitchen and living room. Every light in the apartment was on, agents and police milling about everywhere.

"Look, _Dave_," Booth watched her eyes whisk pointedly back up from his nametag to the young man's face, "I think I would know if there was any permanent damage to my trachea. I am a forensic anthropologist."

"Bones, just let the guy do his job. I think he knows a little bit more about keeping people alive than you. Besides, he doesn't bother you when you're working."

"We don't know each other. How could he possibly disturb me at work?"

"Exactly." Brennan cast a confused look in his direction, which he ignored.

"And who is this fine young lady that seems to tolerate you, Booth?"

"Oh, this is my partner, forensic anthropologist and author, Dr. Temperance Brennan." Booth felt a swell of pride as Sal extended his hand. "Bones, this is Special Agent Sal Girardi. This was the guy that recruited and mentored me."

"Nice to meet you." Brennan offered a charming smile that had made its stunning debut appearance a few months before.

"Likewise. Why do you let him call you 'Bones'? That's not very fitting for such a beautiful girl like yourself." Sal sure could turn on that Italian charm when he wanted to. Booth's free hand was absentmindedly running a short circuit up and down Brennan's forearm. She would probably say that it was a territorial gesture.

"He was persistent and I surrendered." Raising his eyebrows, Booth flashed her a goofy smile.

"He is a stubborn SOB."

"I won't deny it. So, Sal, what are you doing here? I thought you worked the organized crime unit in your old age." Booth re-entered the conversation before they dragged out all of his dirty laundry.

"That's actually why I'm here." Sal shifted his broad frame almost uncomfortably. "Maybe, you want to talk outside?" This drew Brennan's attention. He could feel her eyes on his face. Booth tightened his grip on the ice and stopped his hand on her arm. This was one of those defining moments. If he accepted, Brennan would be hurt that he didn't seem to trust her. If he declined, she could potentially hear something she shouldn't.

"No, whatever it is, she can hear." The tension broke. The medic took the ice from him. Using the opportunity to his advantage, Booth nonchalantly placed his arm across Brennan's shoulders. His other hand resumed its previous activity, which he realized was most likely more comforting to him than it was to her.

"It's on record that you were researching the Rovettos today. You and Dr. Brennan have had some trouble these past few weeks. We wanted to know what you think the connection is so that we can get right on this. Maybe this case can help us get something solid on that family." There was a pause. "I think you printed out Lena Rovetto's file?"

"Yeah, that's right." Booth turned to Brennan. "I'm sorry I was going to tell you about this, but I didn't get a chance." Brennan nodded, which he interpreted as acceptance. "I found that Lena Rovetto was bedding Garrett Delaney before he died. He must have been Rovetto's FBI mole." Brennan's free hand covered his, putting a stop to his comfort. She had made the connection. "If you'll recall, Max Keenan whacked the guy in a very brutal way a couple months ago." The other man motioned to continue. "Max Keenan is her father." A silent 'O' formed on Sal's lips.

* * *

Just Do It. Mind out of the gutter, people. 


	13. Growing Stronger

**A/N:** Alrighty, guys. I'm going to commit a no-no in the writing world and admit a short-coming. One of you mentioned that Booth wouldn't just sit back while Brennan goes at it with Sylvester Stalone. And… you're right. I knew it was one of the faults of the chapter. However, I wanted Brennan to do something on her own. Unfortunately, Booth ended up doing a rain dance in the background looking for his damn gun. That was his chapter off as playing hero. The guy needs a break every once in a while. Believe me, he's going to need it for what's ahead.

Heard from some new reviewers… thanks. And I always adore those who encouraged me from the beginning. You know who you are. If you're joining us for the first time and have read the whole thing straight through, DO NOT go back and review every single chapter… that's just silly : )

Anyhow, this chapter and the next are the only rays of sunshine (ie. fluff) until the end so enjoy them. At least, that's what I have planned but there's no telling. Also, I'll be out of town with no computer access until Tuesday, so don't expect anything else until around Thursday. Sorry, I have to get accepted to a college.

Rightersblock makes things right in my clumsy little world.

* * *

It was midnight when Hodgins pulled into a roadside motel on the outskirts of Knoxville, Tennessee. Angela had fallen asleep an hour before. She'd been extremely anxious for the first hour and a half after he'd filled her in on their danger. Hodgins finally managed to convince her that they'd lost their followers well before they got out of D.C. The nearly-full moon cast a pale light on her creamy skin. Her arm was draped softly across the console, the delicate hand often brushing his arm. This was one of those times when he felt that he was either living in a cruel dream from which he would soon wake or he was the luckiest bastard in the universe.

Hodgins checked into the dumpy motel and retrieved the bags from the car. The room was just big enough for a double bed, a card table and an ancient TV. The bathroom was like a closet. He wondered cynically what kind of insects he could find to study in the threadbare carpeting. After turning down the bed, he went back to the car to get Angela. Opening the door carefully to make sure she didn't tumble out, he knelt beside her. He stroked her cheek and she stirred. Fluttering eyelids revealed exhausted but beautiful dark brown eyes. Hodgins was quite positive that he was in love.

"Where are we?" She raised her hands above her head to stretch, only to hit the roof.

"Knoxville."

"Tennessee?"

"That would be the one. You want to come inside and get some sleep?" Angela sighed.

"I'll go anywhere you lead." Taking her proffered hand, Hodgins helped her out of the car and took her to their room.

"I hope you mean that because this motel is not a very promising prospect."

Fifteen minutes later, they lay on the bed facing each other. Angela's eyes were closed, but Hodgins figured he would give it a shot. He'd wanted to talk to her since she'd fallen into a fearful silence after their departure.

"I'm sorry, Ange."

"For what?" Her words were slurred with sleep.

"I'm sorry for causing all of this. I'm sorry that you're scared and that my car is so small. I should've gotten something bigger. I'm sorry that the sandwiches were sort of crushed and that we're in this damn motel room. And I'm sorry…" Angela opened her eyes and put a hand on his arm.

"Jack, stop. Apologizing is not your thing and none of this is your fault."

"It is my fault. If I wasn't so interested in uncovering every international and local conspiracy, this wouldn't have happened."

"But that's what I love about you, okay? I just love you. And you wouldn't be you if you didn't do those crazy things."

"You… I… I love you too, Ange." They shared a brief kiss, but were both too tired to take it any further. Angela simply curled closer to him and he held her hand all night.

- - - -

"What can I get for you?" The pretty blonde waitress made a show of concentrating on Brennan while her eyes kept sidling to Booth, who was intently studying his menu, trying to act clueless. Her plastic nametag read "Beverly". And obviously clever Beverly had noticed the lack of wedding rings. Booth thought it was rude, no matter what his marital status was. She didn't know him and certainly never would.

"Blueberry pancakes, please." Brennan leaned towards her slyly. "Do you have whipped cream?" The waitress mimicked her actions, though not in a kindly way. Booth bristled as he realized that she was mocking his Bones.

"Yes." Making a show of jotting down the request, Beverly was able to turn her full attention to Booth. "What can I get for you, sweetheart?" A fleeting glance at Brennan reassured him that she hadn't heard the endearment. She was engrossed in her cell phone. Giving it a second thought, he figured she probably wouldn't think anything of it, anyway.

"I just want some regular pancakes. Oh, and a side of bacon." He picked up both menus and handed them back. It was meant as a cue for Beverly to leave. She didn't pick up on it. The fact that his jean jacket wasn't very good at hiding his sidearm didn't help her mental faculties either.

"Oh, my God," She lowered her voice, "is that a gun?"

"Yes it is."

"Are you a cop?" Beverly was now a swooning high-school girl.

"Yes I am. I also happen to be hungry."

"Oh, right." She offered a little laugh and pranced off towards the kitchen.

"Thanks for helping me out, Bones." She didn't even look up from the phone.

"You're welcome." Booth rolled his eyes to no one in particular. After pressing a few more buttons, she put the phone back in her pocket. "Angela said she would call me last night and she didn't. I called this morning and she didn't answer."

"Maybe they're not awake yet."

"I'm sure she'll call. She is Angela, after all." Brennan shrugged and Booth changed the subject.

"Last night was crazy. You kicked ass, Bones." Booth was rewarded with a dazzling smile, which he was sure noticeably brightened the IHOP. She stared into her coffee sheepishly. The hand that delivered the knockout punch, her right one, was tightly wrapped in a gauze bandage. It was obviously bothering her as she plucked and twisted at it. Otherwise, she looked comfortable, leaning lazily against the wall to her left.

"I would have to agree with you." It was nine o'clock in the morning and they were no worse for wear, though a little tired. They had gotten back to his apartment at midnight with enough of Brennan's things in tow to last a while. It had warmed Booth's heart to see her solemnly collect Jasper along with a old framed picture of her and Russ. A comfortable silence was enjoyed on the ride home. Booth noticed that Brennan had fingered the tiny plastic pig the whole time, though he pretended not to. After quick showers, they literally fell into bed. Their sleeping arrangements had been the same as the night before, except for the fact that they had deliberately laid on opposite sides of the bed with a canyon in between. So it was a curious circumstance when they found themselves in a tangle when the sun came up. Booth couldn't forget the graceful blush that adorned her cheeks.

"What if I hadn't showed up? You're lucky I have such good timing."

"I would have managed the situation had those been the circumstances." A rebellious glint came into her eye. He wondered if its roots wound back to an insolent and bitter teenager tossed about in the foster-care system.

"And why didn't you pick up your cell? I was following you around the whole damn city with some extremely accurate guessing. You're lucky I'm such a good guesser."

"I seem to be experiencing quite an unnatural amount of luck for one human being. Maybe we should go back to Las Vegas." With a smirk, Brennan's eyes shifted to a point past his shoulder.

"Funny."

"My cell phone is dead on your nightstand." She was still looking past him. Booth had to know who was more interesting than him.

"That's a good place for it." He turned slightly to see a family having breakfast a few tables over. There was a little girl giggling uncontrollably at the faces that her older brother was making. He knew instantly what she was thinking about and he hoped that the ensuing conversation wouldn't be too painful. The fact that she had come back to his apartment without protesting was encouraging.

"I wish Parker was here." Booth laughed as she beat him to the punch, like always.

"Is that your discrete way of asking me about Rebecca?"

"Did you talk to her?"

"Talking is too civilized of a word. We argued. It went a little too far and I regret it. I'm not sure why it got so out of hand."

"You are two independent people with a natural, understandable passion for your child. Both of you want the best thing for him, though at the moment, you hold differing views on what that is. It's perfectly reasonable that you had a heated discussion." She was trying to make him feel better in her own way and he appreciated it.

"Bones, I know what she told you and I'm sorry."

"It's alright."

"No, it's not. I want you to be a part of Parker's life, even if it can't be right now." Brennan remained silent, fidgeting with her napkin and biting her lip. "That is, if you want to."

"I do, if that's acceptable."

"I would be honored. He really likes you."

"I always assumed that I could never communicate with a child. They operate on a completely different set of logical standards. Parker is my first real attempt at understanding a child. It's fascinating."

"And do you understand him?"

"I don't think it's possible."

"Welcome to the world of parenting."

"So you don't get to see Parker again until the case is resolved?"

"I think it's best if he stays away for a little bit."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, Bones. You didn't cause any of this." That line didn't appear to convince her. "Besides, we can still talk to him on the phone. And you watch, in a few days, Rebecca will give in some and let us visit." He sighed, "If only the world was as logical as you describe it. We could just talk the Rovettos into being reasonable and live happily ever after."

"I don't think my world would be a very enjoyable world. So many layers of the human psyche would be lost. Life can be so beautiful. Would you really give up those wonderful subtleties of human nature to avoid a few bad situations?" Booth was speechless. Brennan was giving _him_ lectures on the lovely nuances of life. Had he fallen into a wormhole and landed in an alternate reality? This new development made him extremely happy. Here was this woman who could drown a lawyer in scientific data and still manage to be culturally ignorant. A woman who was able to attach herself instantly to his son, beat a man senseless and wax poetic about the beauties of life the morning after. She was perfect. Beverly remerged in the midst of all the perfection to bring their food.

"Blueberry pancakes for you." She set the plate in front of Brennan. "And buttermilk pancakes… with bacon." His plate arrived with a wink.

"Excuse me, I asked for whipped cream."

"Oh, you want some? You just asked if we have it." The waitress gave an odd little laugh that Booth assumed was supposed to make the situation cute, rather than ridiculously stupid. He tried to control his own laughter when he saw the expression on Brennan's face. It was a mixture between disbelief, annoyance and maybe even pity. Beverly's flirtatious plan had backfired.

"Miss, you are among that set of females that suffers from the coincidental combination of blonde hair and a profound unintelligence that has become one of the most popular stereotypes in America." Beverly's face turned bright red. Bones had flat-out told the woman that she was an airhead. "And yes, I actually want whipped cream, thank you." Brennan unfolded her napkin, clearly dismissing the waitress. As soon as she was out of sight, Booth started laughing.

"What's so funny?" She looked at him curiously.

"You." He stopped laughing and softened his voice. "Just… you." He lost his breath as the intensity of her blue eyes pierced him. Their gazes locked. Booth felt that he could see straight through to her soul. He saw every hope, every fear and every sadness right there in her eyes. The distance created by the table between them seemed to close but he couldn't tell if it was real or imagined.

"Here you go. I'm really sorry about that." Her eyes lingered on his for another half-second, as if protesting the intrusion, before breaking away and acknowledging the woman. He saw her body relaxing and he could feel a palpable tension leaving his own.

"Um, thanks." The words stumbled out of her mouth. Booth was proud that he, of all people, could render the eloquent Dr. Brennan speechless with only his eyes. Beverly quickly retreated, apparently wanting to avoid another embarrassing situation. They ate in silence for a few minutes until Booth had an idea.

"Bones, let's do something fun today."

"No more TV on DVD. I'm still recovering brain-cells."

"We'll save that for another night."

"Can we do something I've never done before?" Brennan sat up straighter. She looked like the proverbial kid in the candy store. Her eyes were wide with delight and sparkled wonderfully.

"That's kind of a long list."

"Show me what you used to do for pleasure when you were an adolescent." Booth considered cracking a dirty joke but decided it wasn't a good idea.

"I did a lot of stuff." Breaking into a school was not on the list. No mud-wrestling… though that would be hot. Trespassing onto abandoned property and camping out in the 'haunted' houses was a no. Sandlot baseball, driving without a license, hanging out on the water-tower were all out. "Bones, have you ever played laser tag?"

"What is that?" Neither of them knew that it would prove to be the beginning of an adventure of a different sort.

* * *

Reviews are helpful for me and fun for you. 


	14. An Exception for Every Rule

**A/N: **Hi. I know I said I would have this to you on Thursday. I had half of it written and then became uninspired... I won't mention the circumstances. So, here it is, late. Sorry.

**Congratulations on 200 reviews!! **It feels like we just celebrated 100 not too long ago- - - oh wait, we did. You guys are amazing. Thanks so much to all who take the time to boost my ego : ) I really appreciate all of you.

This chapter didn't end up as bright and shiny (yes, that _is _a Grey's reference) as I had originally planned. And from here on out, intensity is the word. Just hang on tight.

No rightersblock, I got impatient.

* * *

"Ok, Bones, it's us against them." Booth approached Brennan, who was putting on a laser tag vest. 

"All of them?" Brennan eyed the group of about ten teenagers huddled in a group across the room. They kept glancing over, which she took to mean that they were talking about them.

"They're splitting into two teams." Brennan watched as Booth attached the velcro on his vest. She turned her attention back to her own gear, but could still feel his eyes on her.

"You can't possibly think that we have a fair chance of winning. We are heavily outnumbered. Despite the fact that they have divided themselves, the probability that they will maintain a united front is very great, especially considering that they are all of a rebellious and mischievous age. If Zack was here, he could calculate the exact statistics, but I'm certain that they would show that is impossible to win." He crossed his arms, tolerating her rambling as if she was a small child telling an outrageous story. His muscular biceps were accented by the fact that he had stripped to his undershirt. Brennan quickly put a cap to all thoughts of Booth's physique. Whenever she found herself thinking of that, which was becoming more and more frequent, she told herself that her observations were in the interest of science. It was easy to say that, but a lot harder to convince herself that it was the truth.

"Are you nervous or something?"

"I am not." Brennan took a step away from him as if she was offended. "There is no reason to be. Your description of this pastime reveals that it is obviously a recreational perversion of the art of warfare, which probably satisfies the ancient desire for the glory and honor of an accomplished warrior. That's most likely why this game appeals to male adolescents."

"So… that means you're going to put up a fight, right? Because you know, Bones, it's not like you to just give up."

"I'm not giving up." Brennan raised her chin, set her shoulders and put her hands on her hips. "Statistics cannot accurately account for the power of the will and thus are void in a situation where it is present, such as the current one. Zack could probably figure a formula to factor it in, but…"

"Could you please stop talking about Zack? You're really ruining the moment."

"The moment?" She creased her forehead in confusion. Booth opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by a short boy with sunny blonde hair. He was followed by the other boys.

"Are you sure you don't want to split into equal teams?" Brennan noted that his voice cracked, marking him to be approximately thirteen or fourteen. She was going to comment on it, but remembered that it could be a sensitive topic for some teenage boys. That was another change that she'd become aware of. In her conversations with strangers, either in a professional or personal capacity, she found that less people became offended. Booth was opening a new world for her. Brennan knew how to talk to the bones she investigated but was clueless with people who possessed the ability to answer back.

"We're fine, thanks. I think we have immense strategic advantage. We're going to win." A slight smile twitched on her lips.

"That's my girl." Brennan felt an unexpected rush of scrambled emotions that she found impossible to separate and inspect. The group split into their respective teams and exited through different doors. All three teams would start at different parts in the course. "Ready?" Booth handed her a laser gun and picked up his own. She followed him through another door and down a narrow corridor.

"Do you have a course of action?" He turned to look at her over his shoulder.

"I think we should stay together. Strength in numbers, you know?" There was something in his voice that Brennan couldn't identify. A few moments passed in silence.

"This is what you did for fun when you were a young adult?" She cast her eyes over the bare walls of the hallway. There was nothing appealing to this game so far.

"We haven't actually started playing the game yet."

"Oh." Booth opened a door at the end of the passage and held it for her as she stepped into the battle zone. Though the outside of the old building was dilapidated, the extensive space in which she now stood was the opposite. It was dark, illuminated only by a few lights in the floor and an unnatural glow that came from the luminescent paint that was splattered everywhere. Brennan could barely make out the shadowy structures closest to her. It appeared to be inspired by a traditional Native American village. Open doorways on the walls to her right and left led into mazes of glowing walls. A few ladders were visible in her field of vision. She guessed they ascended to the catwalks and raised platforms that filled the space between the floor and vaulted ceiling three stories above. The décor was definitely inspired by males seeking the illusion of adventure. Apparently, she was contemplating the architecture for too long because she felt a tap on her shoulder. Just as Brennan turned, a buzzer sounded. A puzzled expression clouded her features.

"That means the game has started. Just remember that it's only a game, so don't kill anyone." Booth moved away and then suddenly turned back to her. "On second thought, no physical contact at all." A noise from above startled them and Brennan followed closely as Booth sprinted to the nearest shelter. There was an open square on one of the walls which afforded Brennan a view through to another window a few huts away. A movement inside caught her eye at about the same time that she realized that the game was sucking her in.

"Booth, there's someone over there." Brennan kept her voice to a whisper. Booth came to kneel beside her at the low opening. The window was small so the two were almost cheek to cheek. From the corner of her eye, she saw him squint his eyes against the darkness. "Do you see them?"

"Yeah. Here's the plan. You…" Booth trailed off as they turned their heads to face each other. They were centimeters apart. The outside world didn't exist any more. That wonderful little electric buzz was zipping between them faster and stronger than ever. Something silent and burning was calling to Brennan. All she had to do was lean forward ever so slightly… Two pairs of eyes lingered on two pairs of lips. Their breathing was shallow. This was the moment that each had been secretly waiting for. Now that it was happening, there was hesitation even though it felt right to be so close. It wasn't a bad hesitation. They simply respected each other too much to make hasty decisions.

Brennan felt herself drawing closer to him. She was almost convinced that she was dreaming until Booth's warm hand slipped under her hair and curled around the back of her neck. Her pulse increased exponentially. This was real, not a dream. Brennan just barely felt Booth's lips against hers when a loud noise from above caused them to recoil guiltily. The world began to orbit the sun once more and the pair found themselves back in the laser tag arena. Booth stormed to the door, visibly angry at what she figured was a ruined "moment". He motioned to her. Back to the game, just like that, Brennan thought disappointedly. Of course, he was a man. Naturally, he was controlled by the easy suggestibility of a normal male. It was nothing more than impulse.

"We're surrounded, but I don't think that they know we're in here." Brennan saw three members of the green team milling about outside. "Just run that way and we'll catch up later." Booth pointed towards the back of the hut. She could only nod her understanding. Though she was a brilliant and detached scientist, it didn't take much to shake her up on an emotional and personal level. Brennan refused to meet his eyes as she brushed past him and started running.

- - - -

Booth quickly lost the two boys that were chasing him. He ducked into one of the mazes to collect himself. He couldn't believe something so meaningful had picked this place to happen. They had gotten lost in one another. The hurt and disappointment in her eyes had broken his heart. It was his fault. He panicked. Nothing in the world should have been able to stop him. But, the invincible Booth had an Achilles' heel. His Bones was the life and death of him. He desperately wanted to be more than a friend, but if it didn't work out, the pain of losing her would be too much. Booth leaned against the wall and tried to clear his mind. He needed to think straight. As all of his worries faded into the background, only one thought remained. He had to let her know how he felt, one way or another. Damn the consequences.

Booth walked toward the exit of the maze to find her. They needed to get out of here and find someplace conducive to what needed to be said and done. That plan lasted all of four seconds. Brennan passed the door just as he got there. It was too much. His hand closed around her upper arm and he pulled her into the room. Her back was against the wall as she struggled in his grip. As soon as he whispered her nickname, she stopped moving. Booth released her. Her head was bowed almost in shame. A shaking finger hooked under her chin and raised her beautiful face towards his. It was just as he had done after her father and brother had abandoned her for the second time in her life. He should have kissed her then. Tears brimmed in her eyes. Booth smoothed her hair away from her face comfortingly. Though the tears clouded her eyes, a deep trust was just beneath the surface. It gave him the extra courage he needed. His hands moved to her waist and he lowered his lips to hers.

It was a feather-light kiss at first. Such a chaste kiss had never taken Booth's breath away like it did now. The kiss grew in intensity, he felt Brennan's arms wind around his neck. He felt that this was the reason he was born… to experience this exact moment with this amazing woman. After what seemed like an eternity and an instant all at once, they finally broke apart, somewhat out of breath. Brennan buried her face in the crook of his neck. Booth held her tighter as a shuddering breath ran through her body. He understood the profound and somewhat foreign emotions that she was feeling. It was like nothing he'd ever felt before. The tension that was constantly present when they were together was gone, replaced with something that Booth didn't recognize yet. He felt her head rise slightly from his shoulder. Her whispering breath in his ear sent shivers down his spine.

"I thought I was prohibited from physical contact." Booth could almost hear her smiling.

"There's an exception to every rule." He placed a kiss on her forehead and pulled back, though his hand migrated towards one of hers. "What do you say we get out of here?" The boys never did figure out what happened to the two crazy adults. They were nowhere to be found when the game ended.

- - - -

"I don't believe you."

"It's true." Brennan continued typing on her computer. Booth appeared in the doorway of the bedroom and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Well, did you know that in 1933, Mickey Mouse received over 800,000 fan letters? That was even before he was nothing more than a cartoon." Triumph rang in his voice at the piece of trivia.

"A piece of paper can't be folded more than seven times."

"In the Wizard of Oz, the lion costume was made from real lions." That was one movie Brennan had seen. She was six years old. One of her most vivid memories was clinging to a nine-year-old Russ, who put on a brave front for her. After witnessing the melting of the witch, she refused to take a bath for a week and a day. Rationality had not always been a prominent trait.

"Ernest Vincent Wright wrote a 50,000 word novel without ever using the letter 'e'"

"Coca-cola was originally green."

"The Romans believed that a crooked nose was a sign of leadership." There was a pause as Brennan waited for him to reply. There was a knock on the door. She placed her laptop aside and jumped up before Booth could react.

"The money's on the table there." She snatched up the twenty dollar bill to pay for the pizza. But when she opened the door, no one was there. Instead, a folded note lay on the ground. The sound of rapid footsteps caught her attention. She didn't even wait to pick up the note. The money fluttered to the floor as she bolted after the visitor. He started to run faster when he realized he was being pursued. Brennan could barely keep up as he rounded the corner at the end of the hall and headed for the stairs.

"Bones!" Booth's shout went unheeded, as it had so many times before. Catching the door to the stairwell just as it was swinging shut, she caught a glimpse of the man jumping down the stairs three at a time. Brennan skimmed down, her feet barely touching the stairs. The man passed the first floor and continued his descent to the basement. He tried to slam the metal door in her face as she reached it. Throwing her whole body against it, she pushed through the resistance. The man was thrown off balance by the force of the impact and he stumbled across the cement floor in the general direction of the exit. Brennan took advantage of this and lunged forward, close enough to grab at him. Her right hand, still bandaged from the night before, throbbed as she gripped his jacket. Gritting her teeth, she wrenched him backwards. He dropped to the ground but her weakened hand was now inadequate. With a final jerk, he rolled away from her and regained his footing. Brennan was on her feet just as quickly.

The bitterly cold air enveloped her as she rushed through the door after him. Bursting from the building, she was just in time to see the man dive into an idling sedan directly to her left. Brennan threw herself at it, palms slamming into one of the frigid, blackened windows. The tires screeched and she barely had enough time to jump back before the car tore out of the alleyway and blended with the night.

Brennan wasn't sure how long she'd been standing there in the frosty air, staring into the distance before she heard the door bang again. It couldn't have been too long. She didn't realize that she was shivering until a leather jacket was placed across her shoulders. They stood there for a few minutes. He didn't touch or talk, and for that, Brennan was grateful. She didn't look at him as she allowed him to lead her back inside.

Upstairs, the note that still lay neglected on the floor would set into motion a terrible chain of events. In an even, well-educated script, a barbaric message was written on the expensive stationary.

_Agent Booth will be executed exactly one week from today if Max Keenan is not in our custody by that time._

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Reviews make my world go 'round. Okay, not literally, but they make me pretty happy. I know it's a burden, but please?_  
_


	15. Introspection

**A/N: **Hey all. Hope you're having a fabulous week. If you're not, I hope I can help make it a little better. You all can make my week a lot better by reviewing. I think I've lost some of you and that makes me sad. Shout if you're still here because I'm writing this for you, yes _you_. Ok, maybe I'm writing a little for myself... but mostly for you! So please, please drop a line and tell me what you think. I'm taking some risky moves in the next few chapters and I want to make sure that you are all there with me.

Thanks to rightersblock.

* * *

Brennan lifted her face to the morning sun as she walked up the sidewalk towards the Jeffersonian. The unusually warm day had prompted her to take the long way through the gardens. Though only a few winter flowers and shrubs were in bloom, the air was still filled with a lovely scent. It was the smell of life and vitality. A light breeze played with her hair and tickled her face. As she ambled along, a list of things she needed to do was lining up in her head. It was a great day to be working. Maybe she could even convince the security guard to let her crack the windows in her office. 

It was exactly four days since Booth kissed her. They were taking it slowly. Very, very slowly. But it felt right. Looking back now, she could see that all of her romantic relationships had been purely for carnal pleasure; even the ones that she thought were genuine. Brennan had never experienced such happiness and patience with the gradual, natural progression of intimacy. It was all so innocent and delightful. They hadn't talked about anything yet, they were only experiencing. Playful breakfasts, the quiet morning drives, the phone calls in the middle of the day, the music-filled rides back to the apartment, the casual dinners, the comfortable evenings, the goodnight kiss and the all-night hugs to start the whole cycle over again.

Brennan became conscious of a silly smile that had crept up. Shaking her head, she wiped away the giddiness. This relationship was just like the others. There was nothing special about it. _He only makes you feel human._ Booth was just a man. _And the Great Pyramid of Giza is just a tomb._ Besides, relationships formed during stressful situations rarely lasted. _You've been friends and partners for almost two years._ Just like any other encounter, it would be over in months. _You haven't even given it a chance._ Brennan only hoped they could continue to work together after the fallout. She suddenly wished Angela was there to be optimistic for her. It wasn't something that Brennan was particularly good at.

It was exactly three days since they learned that Angela and Hodgins had fled D.C. Booth had found the brief note explaining the circumstances taped to the door Monday morning. It was in her father's hand. Brennan found it hard to not to feel guilty for the threat on their lives. If her father wasn't who he was, her life and those of her friends and co-workers would never be in danger. But Booth was right when he said that you can't choose your parents. Though the logical side of her said that none of it was her fault, she still felt somewhat responsible for her father's actions and reputation.

The thought of the message brought forward the memory of another note. Brennan was distracted by the chase of the mysterious currier and the note had slipped her mind. It wasn't on the ground to remind her when they got back. She wondered now what had happened to it and scolded herself for forgetting something so significant.

"Dr. Brennan?" A rumbling voice pulled her from her introspection. Looking around, she found that she was standing in the Jeffersonian. The voice belonged to Henry. He was a mountain of a man, standing almost six and a half feet tall. Originally from Jamaica, his deep voice carried a soothing accent and his mind held countless fascinating stories. "How are you today?"

"I'm fine, thank you." The man smiled enthusiastically. Brennan placed her bag on the conveyor belt and stepped through the metal detector. Taking her bag on the other side, she waved to Henry and set off toward the lab. Zack was on the platform staring at a computer screen.

"Good morning, Zack."

"Good morning, Dr. Brennan." Depositing her bag in her office, she returned to the platform and swiped her access card. Zack turned as she climbed the steps.

"What do you have?" Brennan snapped on a pair of latex gloves and bent over the skeletal remains. "Looks like a female in her late teens to early twenties. South American or Asian descent, hard to tell."

"We need Angela."

"This is a mixture of mud and decomposed biological material. Time of death may be difficult as well. I assume you collected any insect specimen."

"We need Dr. Hodgins." Brennan stopped her examination and raised her eyes to find a dejected Zack. She always forgot how young he was.

"Zack, I know that we usually work as a unit. It's difficult to process everything without Angela and Hodgins here, but we are two capable scientists. We must be able to act independently when the situation requires it. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Dr. Brennan." There was a pause. "But I do not have any expertise in the discipline of entomology. And if I may be blunt…" Brennan nodded her consent. "You are not a very skillful artist."

"I know that Zack." She would have laughed but wasn't sure he would understand. "I wasn't suggesting that we imitate Angela and Hodgins. The Jeffersonian does employ additional entomologists and artists. The difference is that it is our responsibility to collect the evidence and deliver it. Do you think you can handle that?"

"Yes."

"Make sure that everything is well-documented. I'll be in my office if you need anything." Brennan removed the gloves and dropped them into a hazardous waste bin. She had to call Booth and find out what that note said but another thought struck her first, something to cheer her former student.

"Oh, and Zack?"

"Yes?"

"While Hodgins is gone, you should try to find his collection of death masks. From the way Angela described them, I think it should be fascinating." Brennan continued to her office, remembering how horrified Angela had been. She felt a stab of sadness at the absence of her friend. She would give anything to have to brush off those meaningful looks and Angela's persistent advice and concern that always began with her trademark, "Sweetie…"

Pulling her phone from her bag, she sank onto the couch. The energy she'd felt earlier was draining fast. Dialing Booth's cell number, she listened to it ring five times before hearing his professional voice rattling off instructions for leaving a message. Brennan flicked the phone shut. She'd try him later. Crossing the room, she unlatched the window, allowing the refreshing air to sweep in. It was the first time she had ever opened the window in her office. Sitting down at the computer, Brennan pulled up her latest work in progress. The time had come for Kathy and Andy to take their relationship a little further.

- - - -

When Brennan called, Booth was cruising down the interstate with too much on his mind and too little to distract him. A random radio station provided some background noise, though he paid no attention to it. The endless monotony of the highway had caused his mind to wander. The ring startled him from his half-conscious state. It was her. He was dying to talk to her, tell her what he was doing. But he had sworn to secrecy and he was nothing if not a man of his word. There was no way Booth would lie to her, so he set the phone back in the cup holder and tried to ignore it. Hitting the CD button on the stereo, the rings were soon drowned out as The Rolling Stones pelted from the speakers.

He laughed as nostalgia took over. 'Get Off My Cloud' had been the anthem of the beginning of his rebellious stage as a kid. Booth had gotten that off to an early start at the age of twelve. The only way he had stayed connected to his dad was through the love for cars that they both shared. God, to be young. Youth really was wasted on the youth.

Thoughts of youth led to thoughts of Parker. He was really disappointed that Rebecca hadn't called yet. She was a very compulsive person, one who tended to explode first and apologize later. Booth had his bitter sentiments, but overall, Rebecca was supportive of his relationship with Parker. On impulse, he picked up his cell phone and called his son's number. When a woman answered the phone, Booth could have kicked himself. Parker, of course, was at preschool where all electronics, toys and otherwise, were confiscated until the end of the day.

"Hello?"

"Yes, this is Seeley Booth. Who am I speaking with?"

"Gloria Henderson." By the irritated tone of her voice, Booth suspected he'd stumbled across the 'mad teacher' that Parker was always talking about. He decided to try charm.

"Ms. Henderson, it's nice to finally meet you. Parker talks about you all the time." He smiled widely, hoping to sound convincing.

"Did you need something, Mr. Booth? I'm afraid I'm very busy." She was a tough old bat.

"I was wondering if I could talk to Parker."

"I'm sorry, he's in the middle of something." What on earth was so important in preschool? It was glorified, educational daycare.

"Please, Ms. Henderson. It won't take long." Booth found himself reverting to a pleading tone. "I just want to see how he's doing and hear his voice. That's all." Either he struck a chord or the teacher was tired of talking to him because a moment later Parker was on the line.

"Hello?"

"Hey, buddy." There was now a genuine smile on Booth's face.

"Daddy!" The joyful giggle set his heart racing. "Guess what I was doing?"

"What?"

"Guess!" Booth sighed dramatically. This was one of Parker's favorite games. It never lasted long. He always got so excited, that he would just blurt it out.

"Were you chasing the girls again?" He loved teasing his son about that. Parker always protested that he hated girls, but Booth had seen the little Romeo in action. His son was quite the charmer. Like father, like son.

"No! The girls are all yucky and they scream a lot."

"Well, were you blasting aliens with your laser eyes again?"

"No, that's silly."

"Were you…"

"I was painting a picture, Daddy." He could hear Parker bouncing up and down.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, it's for Dr. Bones. It's a dinosaur because she told me that she digged up one." The little boy mentioned the last part almost in a whisper, like it was a secret. Brennan was just that fascinating to him, Booth supposed. "And I painted one for you too."

"What is it?"

"It's your car with all the holes in it. And you have really big muscles and there isn't any bad guys because you saved me and Dr. Bones from them."

"That's right." Though Booth knew that he didn't save them from the shooter, he wanted Parker to know that he was safe.

"When can I go to your house?"

"I don't know, bub." He tried to hide the sadness in his voice.

"Can we get ice cream?"

"Sure, we'll do whatever you want."

"Will Dr. Bones be there?"

"Maybe."

"Daddy, Thomas found a frog!" The phone was suddenly disconnected. Parker had moved on to bigger and better things. Booth chuckled and shook his head at the mind of a four-year-old. He'd have to remember to get the picture for Brennan. Maybe she would like it. Though he could see that she was occasionally uncomfortable with Parker, there was something in her that connected with him as well. He knew that she would say that it was merely animal instinct. Whatever it was, it had Parker enamored.

The exit for the small country town was coming up. Booth flipped open his cell phone again and punched in the numbers he'd memorized. A male voice answered.

"Agent Booth?"

"Yes."

"Are you at the checkpoint?"

"Yes."

"There will be a Holiday Inn on your left when you reach the top of the exit ramp. Ask the desk clerk for a matchbook and he'll give you my room number."

"Alright."

"Did you tell her?"

"No, you told me not to."

"Good." The line went dead. Booth let out a breath. Since the threat on his life had been left at his doorstep, his mind had been frantically searching for a plan. He was glad now that Brennan didn't know about the note. Booth had intended to tell her after the chase, but she'd been so distracted, he hadn't wanted to add to her worry. After that, he simply hadn't found the right time. Now he knew it was best that she didn't know. It was easier to handle if she was ignorant. He would keep her safe at all cost, even if it stirred up anger. This was the safest for her, emotionally and physically. Booth wasn't lying to her. It was merely an omission. He did it because Brennan would have demanded to come along had she known that at that Holiday Inn in the middle of nowhere, Booth was about to have a meeting with Max Keenan.

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What if I gave away free cars like Oprah... would you press the button? 


	16. And then There Were None

**A/N: **Thanks to all who reviewed. I'm not going to say much, because I'm really tired. I'll just let you read and enjoy. Have a great weekend!

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"Thanks, Henry." Brennan dug a ten dollar bill out of her bag and offered it through the window. The burly man shook his head vehemently.

"Oh no, Dr. Brennan. It was my pleasure. Besides, it's on the way to Dr. Hodgins' house." The poor man had been taxiing Zack to and from the lab since Hodgins' disappearance. Though Zack was paying him well, Brennan wanted to contribute.

"Please take it." Henry reluctantly took the folded bill.

"Do you need me to pick you up in the morning?"

"No, Booth will take me." She waved goodbye to Zack, who was in the backseat. "I'll see you both tomorrow."

As she climbed the stairs, Brennan thought about the strange phone conversation she'd had with Booth earlier that afternoon.

"Hey, Bones." His voice greeted her as soon as she answered the call.

"I tried to call you this morning."

"I was in a meeting." There was a pause. Brennan was dying to ask what the note said. But before she could ask, Booth spoke up. "I'm not going to be able to pick you up today. Can you get a ride?"

"I'm sure."

"It'll be late, so don't wait up." Her curiosity was eating her alive.

"Booth, what did the note say?"

"Note?" Even her less-than-perceptive phone skills could pick up on the grimace.

"You know what I'm referring to."

"It demanded that your father be handed over to the Rovettos."

"Or what? There must be some sort of ultimatum or there would be no enticement to fulfill the request."

"Nothing."

"That's illogical. It had to…"

"Bones, I have to go. We'll talk about this later." With that, the conversation was over. He'd been so abrupt, almost cold. Brennan let herself into the empty apartment. It was a little uncomfortable to be there by herself. It wasn't her apartment. She felt like an intruder. Dropping her things in the middle of the living room, Brennan headed for the kitchen. She hadn't eaten all day. The extra work caused by the absence of her co-workers was overwhelming. Zack had been completely flustered by the end of the day. Certainly not ready to handle a mass grave or terrorist attack, Brennan thought grimly.

She rounded up some homemade fruit salad from the night before, a bagel and a beer. As she sat down at the kitchen table, something caught her eye. It was a manila folder with a sticky note attached. That hadn't been there this morning. Her pounding heart slowed with relief as she saw that the note was signed by Rebecca.

_Seeley-_

_Came by to get some things that Parker left. He really wanted you and Dr. Brennan to have these. Give me a call. Maybe we can set something up? –Rebecca _

Brennan smiled. Booth had told her that these spats between him and Rebecca always worked themselves out. An inquisitive hand reached for the folder. Two pieces of paper slid out. They were paintings, obviously crafted by a child. The first was a blue dinosaur, roughly the shape of a Tyrannosaurus Rex, standing next to a green stick-figure with muddy hair. The person held a stick with a triangle on the end and a smile on its round face. It reminded her of the Paleolithic paintings she'd seen in Bhimabetaka, India during a summer internship in college.

Placing that page aside, she picked up the other one. The image startled her and carried her mind to the events of a week before. There was a circle with two smaller circles attached to the bottom. She guessed it was a car. It was speckled with dots. A tall stick figure with thick arms and an 'L' shaped object in his hand occupied the foreground. Another version of the green woman, this time a little smaller, was next to the car. Her left arm was connected to the right arm of a tiny orange person.

When she finished her meal, she reverently took the paintings to the refrigerator and stuck them there with two brightly colored magnets. She was reminded of the refrigerator from her childhood. It was an ivory tinted artifact from the fifties that systematically stopped working every two weeks. Despite that nuisance, it was lovingly adorned with countless pictures of everyone in the family. Brennan could distinctly recall how proud she was when her mother had posted her first story on that old refrigerator. The manuscript was seven sentences about a dog named Spot and written in the large, sprawling handwriting of a six-year-old.

Brennan pushed back her wistfulness and returned to the unrepentant harshness of reality. The only light on was the one in the kitchen, casting a weariness over the whole place. She decided it was a good time to read through the beginnings of her latest work in progress. Her editor would be expecting it within the next few weeks. Setting the binder on the coffee table, she went to the stereo and flipped through the five-disk CD changer until she found the one she wanted. The sound of rushing water, birds, and rustling leaves filled the room. Booth had teased her when he'd discovered it, but she'd protested that it helped her concentrate. She sat Indian-style on the couch and pulled the binder into her lap.

In what seemed to be the next instant, but was, in reality, several hours later, a hand touched her shoulder. She startled awake, the binder slipping to the floor. Brennan tried to jump to her feet, but realized that they were tucked into the couch cushions. Flinging the hand away, she focused her disoriented mind. How was she going to put up a fight if she was stuck to the damn couch?

"Easy, Bones. It's me." Broad arms caught her as she hastily tried to untangle her legs, almost losing her balance in the process. "You fell asleep."

"Oh." She stopped her struggling and saw the binder overturned on the floor. Brennan rubbed at her eyes and yawned. His hands still rested on her upper arms. "What time is it?"

"Almost two A.M."

"It was five o'clock a few minutes ago." She mentioned it nonchalantly like it was an accepted scientific fact. Booth slid his hands from her.

"Ok, I think you should get to bed if you fail to see problems with that assumption." Groggily pushing herself up, she pointed an accusing finger at him. She barely noticed that he kept a hand on her back as he followed her to the bedroom.

"You're the one that always assumes too much." After taking turns in the bathroom, the two crawled into the bed. Brennan had woken up a little and was now considering the fact that it was two o'clock in the morning. She ran a few possibilities through her mind as she settled against his chest. He was holding her much closer than usual. "Booth?"

"Hmm?"

"Where were you?" Brennan was surprised to hear his breath hitch. She tried to pull away to look at him, but he only tightened his grip and wrapped his other arm around her as well.

"Pursuing a lead." She decided to press forward, his odd behavior peaking her interest.

"What case?"

"Not one of ours. This one still has skin." Brennan nodded. Her sleepy mind accepted the weak explanation and soon returned to unconsciousness. She didn't know that Booth stayed up for another hour, holding her, stroking her hair, feeling her heart beat and listening to her gentle breathing.

- - - -

Stretching luxuriously for half a second before sitting bolt upright, Brennan woke two minutes before six o'clock. When she saw the time, she sighed with relief and flopped back down. Booth wasn't in bed, giving her a second of panic when she thought she'd overslept. Sometimes he didn't wake her up when he got up at five forty-five. He always defended himself by saying that the Jeffersonian didn't require her to be there until nine o'clock, not seven. It mildly infuriated her but she refused to give in and set an alarm.

Brennan frowned slightly when she didn't hear the usual morning noises and smells. There was usually the sound of coffee brewing or the shower running. The apartment was silent. Throwing the sheets back, Brennan set her bare feet on the floor and left the bedroom. No one was in the living room, the TV blank instead of spouting its morning report. The kitchen was empty. Booth was gone. She wasn't too worried, only a little annoyed. She'd have to call a cab to take her to work. He could have been considerate and at least warned her. Shaking her head, Brennan returned to the bedroom and got ready for another day. Starting the shower, she moved to brush her teeth while the temperamental water-heater decided if it was going to work. To her surprise, there was a folded note taped to the mirror. She pulled it from the mirror and opened it.

_Temperance-_

_Sorry I had to leave. I'll see you later. Lunch, maybe? - Yours, B_

Brennan leaned against the sink, trying to digest the cryptic note. Numbly, Brennan shed her clothes and stepped into the shower. God, what was he going to do? Confront the Rovettos? Find her father and forcibly turn him in? She knew he wouldn't do that before consulting her. She sighed and forced herself to think rationally. He was on a difficult case. Maybe he just wanted to get and early start. Or perhaps there was a new lead the required immediate attention.

Brennan could have made countless assumptions, but she would never be able to guess what was spinning in the mind of Seeley Booth. She underestimated him. Brennan had no idea how many times he'd gone to the line for her. Confronting a gang-banger with a mind for revenge, spending countless hours working on her parents' case, the time he spent on thinking of how to reach her, the absolute panic the times she'd been taken or threatened. Without this knowledge, there was no way she could prepare herself for what was about to happen.

The worry gnawed at her while she finished getting ready, during the silent cab ride and the walk to the Jeffersonian. The cab couldn't take her all the way to the building for security reasons. It didn't really matter, she was already an hour later than usual. As she walked, Brennan took out her cell phone and dialed his number. She knew there would be no answer, but she tried anyway. His voicemail picked up. She attempted to level her voice and hide the concern.

"Booth, it's me. Give me a call when you get a chance. It's urgent…" Biting her lip, Brennan debated whether she should say more. A little anger rose to the surface. "Damn you. This isn't fair to me. I'm your partner and by definition, we're supposed to do things together." She hung up before saying something she would regret. Almost as soon as she hung up, the phone rang in her hand. Expecting to see 'Booth' on the caller ID, she was disappointed when it was a number she didn't recognize.

"Hello?"

"Dr. Brennan?" It was a male voice, calm and collected but hiding something. Her apprehension immediately returned, replacing the anger and disappointment.

"Yes?"

"This is Agent Farnsworth. We've sent some agents over to the Jeffersonian. I'm sorry to tell you this, but there's been an accident…" The man kept talking, but Brennan didn't hear any of it. She had stopped walking, though the scenery still appeared to be in motion around her.

"An accident?" The words could barely be heard.

"Yes, ma'am."

"What's his condition?"

"Director Cullen would rather discuss that in person." She nodded as if he could see her. Vaguely aware that a sedan with flashing lights was pulling up beside her, she closed the phone without any formalities. The thin, wintry air felt thick and polluted as Brennan tried to take some calming breaths. It wasn't rational to get upset before she knew the facts. The car rolled to a stop beside her.

"Dr. Brennan?" The back door was opened by an agent who slid over to make room. She climbed into the vehicle feeling as if she was stepping into hell. The agent, with a grim face, introduced himself as Agent Pembroke.

"Do you know what hospital he was taken to? Can we just go there?" Brennan was grasping at the fray to find out some sliver of information.

"I don't have any details."

"At least tell me what happened! Damn it, you have to know that." She couldn't help but to lash out in frustration. The agent hesitated and then compassion flitted briefly across his face.

"Car accident." The information was satisfying and terrifying. At least she knew what to expect but the information also confirmed the awful reality. A terrible thought was forming in her mind that all of this had to do with the note. Both notes; the one from this morning and the one she still knew nothing about. Brennan tried to silence all her thoughts as she rested her head against the cool window and watched the gray city fly past, hoping desperately that Booth was alright. She wouldn't have called it praying, but he would have.

- - - -

When they arrived at the scene of the accident, which was at an intersection on the outskirts of D.C., the crowd of police, FBI, CSU and their vehicles made it difficult to distinguish the accident from the help. Yellow crime scene tape blocked off the entire intersection. It was fairly quiet, considering the number of people present. The faces that Brennan passed as she followed Agent Pembroke were somber. Everyone was keeping to themselves and performing their duties with an unusual focus. There was no casual or extraneous talk between co-workers.

The first thing Brennan looked for was an ambulance. The first thing that she actually spotted was Booth's silver SUV. The sight rocked her to the core. All that was left was a metal skeleton, charred and blackened by fire. Brennan realized that she was taking in huge gulps of air, but very little of it was reaching her lungs. Her eyes burned as the acrid smell of smoke and burnt flesh assaulted her nostrils. It wasn't Booth that she was smelling. He must have gotten out before the fire. Perhaps a few minor injuries and burns, but he was here somewhere, she just couldn't find him in all the people. Brennan couldn't tear her eyes away from the gruesome sight even after Cullen was standing in front of her, waiting for her attention. He touched her arm but she shrank away.

"He… he wasn't…" Her eyes were clouding over. She blinked but no tears fell. Brennan turned to Cullen, standing there with such a sickeningly sympathetic expression. The scent of his cologne contrasted sharply with everything else.

"Dr. Brennan…" Cullen was preparing to comfort, she could see it in his eyes. She didn't want comfort, she wanted the bitter truth so she could go back to the miserable life she'd been living before Booth. She would have no excuse to hide away within herself and never come out again. Never again would she make the mistake of taking her armor off when the battle still raged around her. "Booth was on his way to…"

"Where is he?" She was still hoping that she would be given the name of a hospital and carted away again. Cullen studied his feet intently.

"I'm sorry…"

"No." The whisper was pathetic, even to her own ears.

"Someone ran the light. Agent Booth was killed instantly." Brennan closed her eyes and put her head down. After a moment, she raised her gaze to Cullen.

"I want to see him."

"The body is…"

"I _know_ what the condition of the body must be. I am a forensic anthropologist and I want to see for myself." There was a glint in her eye that not even Cullen would have challenged in the present situation.

"Pembroke, please escort Dr. Brennan to the ME's van." Brennan followed the man to the opposite end of the intersection. A black van sat on the sidewalk. Two gurneys sat side by side, each saddled with a body bag. The coroner was standing off to the side, holding a clipboard and taking notes. Brennan dug a pair of latex gloves out of her bag and approached the older man.

"Excuse me, which is the agent?" Brennan thought that if she could stay detached, she would be able to get through the next few minutes. She had to do this or she would never fully accept the fact that he was gone.

"Who are you?"

"Dr. Temperance Brennan, forensic anthropologist." The coroner's eyebrows rose. He pointed to the one closest to the van. Brennan was aware that Cullen had followed and was standing a dozen yards away, though she chose not to acknowledge him. She would be damned if he got to play the comforting father role. Fathers had never brought her much happiness anyhow. Taking a shuddering breath, Brennan slowly unzipped the bag and pushed it away from the body. The sight of the reddish-brown and black dehydrated flesh hanging limply from the bones was almost too much. Empty eye-sockets that once held intense brown eyes now stared unblinkingly at her. The mouth that had kissed her every night for the past week was now pasted with a perpetual, meaningless smile. The arms that held her were lifeless and uncaring. Her mighty Booth had been reduced to nothing. The bile rose in her throat and she fought to control her emotionally driven physical reactions. Brennan concentrated on the facts. The quicker she was done with this, the better. Her eyes trailed over the body, doing their best to see nothing but an ordinary skeleton. Revelation came to her almost instantly. This was not Booth. The words left her mouth before she could stop them.

"This is not Booth." Cullen was by her side at once, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Dr. Brennan, I think you're done here." She resisted his attempts to lead her away.

"Let go of me. This is not Booth. It's not possible." Her voice was rising in her distress. Maybe her attachment was causing her to see what she wanted, but she didn't care.

"Dr. Brennan!" Cullen was practically dragging her down the sidewalk. She struggled violently.

"That skeleton has… no fractures on his feet and the ribs…" She finally broke free from Cullen's grip and turned back. The larger man caught her from behind, pinning her arms to her chest. "Stop!" People were starting to stare, most of them with expressions of pity. "You have to listen to me. That's not Booth." Brennan was hysterical now. Her body convulsed erratically as she tried to break free. But somewhere in her mind, a logical argument was forming. Cullen was a rational being. If what she was saying was true, he would be listening. So, Booth must have really been dead. There was nothing she could make up about that body to make him come to life.

"Dr. Brennan… Temperance, I don't know you very well, but I do know that Agent Booth cared for you a lot." Cullen's mouth was right next to her ear, something special that Booth did all the time… used to do. Brennan felt as if she was suffocating. Her struggling gradually ceased, leaving her completely inanimate. "He wouldn't want you to do this. Don't sacrifice your reputation trying to prove the truth to be false. Please, for Booth. Let him rest in peace." As Cullen released her from his hold, Brennan nodded.

"I'm just… I'll sit here for a while." Cullen left her alone as she slid down the brick wall and sat on the rough pavement. Her eyes stared vacantly at the bustle. None of it was important. Booth was dead and the universe would go on, even without her permission. Brennan showed no outward emotion but inside she was screaming and writhing. Every fiber of her being was saturated with overpowering sorrow. There she sat, a woman on a hard sidewalk, with the world spinning and living around her as she cried out her soul but shed no tears.

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Don't kill me, please. 


	17. Heaven Forbid

**A/N: **Sorry it's been a week since the last update, I've had some craziness here. So, I hope you find the wait worthwhile. For those of you who don't know, a Cutlass is a classic car. You'll understand that in just a second. Alrighty, I'm off to watch me some Grey's Anatomy!

Title for this chapter inspired by The Fray's "Heaven Forbid". That whole CD is great.

rightersblock is my beta...

* * *

They chose a hotel in Las Vegas, not a motel. It was above some ritzy casino that Angela didn't remember the name of. The room was plush, a sharp contrast to the cockroach-infested rooms they had seen along the way. Jack thought it was a good idea to stick to those in the smaller towns. Here in Vegas, they were lost in the crowd, completely indistinguishable from the vacationers and those there on 'business'. The week had been filled with elegant dinners, shopping and fun evenings in the rooftop pool. Everything was paid for in cash. Angela was waiting any day for the money to run out, but it kept appearing and Jack didn't seem worried about their spending. 

The room was quiet except for the low murmur of a news channel on the big-screen TV. Jack was cleaning up his beard in the spacious bathroom. Angela was sprawled lazily across the silk sheets that covered the bed. It was nine thirty and they were getting ready to go out to a late breakfast. But Angela was still in her pajamas, concentrating on a different task. Glancing back and forth from the bathroom to her sketchbook, a penciled scene was rapidly developing. There was Hodgins in nothing but boxers, just as he was now. Angela was drawing exactly what she was seeing, except for the boy of about six years old who was now taking shape next to Hodgins. His head was tilted upwards, studying the older man. He wore pajama bottoms but no shirt. Wildly curling, dark hair covered his head and his small hands rested on the edge of the sink. The long mirror captured both of their expressions. Curiosity and adoration shone from the boy's face as he watched with his mouth slightly open. Hodgins, with his razor to his face, was eyeing him with a slight, crooked smile.

"What're you drawing now?" His voice startled her and she snapped the book shut. She could feel her cheeks reddening, but he paid no attention as he dug through the shopping bags.

"Nothing much." Angela rolled off the bed, regaining her composure. "Is it warm outside?"

"I don't know. Probably, but the weather is so crazy all over the country so who knows?" Angela couldn't resist poking at him.

"Maybe it's a conspiracy." She raised her eyebrows and looked at him impishly.

"You're not allowed to make fun of me. One of my theories proved correct."

"You're right, sweetie." Picking up the remote, Angela turned the TV up and started to change the channel, hoping to find a local weather channel.

"Wait, don't change it." Hodgins came up behind her. "Is that D.C.?" The pair watched as images of a car wreck flashed on the screen. Angela thought it odd that a simple accident would be getting so much attention. "Turn it up." A grim female voice filled the room. She could feel the apprehension growing as she noticed several jackets with FBI printed in block letters on the back. They watched the images in silence while listening to the reporter.

"… and we're told that the van ran the stoplight and hit the other vehicle. Both drivers were killed instantly. The vehicles burned before authorities could retrieve the bodies, so no word yet on who was driving the van. The FBI is not prepared to release the name of the agent who died in the crash. Their statement right now is that this appears to be simply an accident, but inside sources say that this looks like a pre-meditated hit. No organizations have claimed responsibility yet despite the heavy publicity."

"Oh no." Angela's face was pale and her hands trembled. She fumbled around in her purse for her cell without taking her eyes from the screen. "I have to call Bren."

"You don't know if it was Booth." The reporter rambled on about the crash, most of it useless information to cover for the fact that she had nothing. The cameras panned the burnt wreckage and the swarms of police and agents. There were no ambulances, only a coroner's van could be seen occasionally at the edge of the scene. It was pure chaos. Angela gripped her phone with white knuckles, waiting for any indication that the agent was Booth. She gasped suddenly and pointed a quivering finger at the image on the TV.

"Oh, my God." Tears welled up in her eyes as she crumpled into the chair next to her. "Jack…" He knelt beside her and took her hand, trying to control his own emotions.

"Maybe they're working the scene. Booth could be talking to someone while she checks out the body." Angela shook her head. She could hear it in his voice. He didn't believe his own reasoning.

"Look at her. She's not working." They watched the woman sitting against the side of the building. She was on the far right side of camera's frame. The camera ignored her and the shot was from far away, but Angela and Hodgins could recognize their friend and boss anywhere. Her knees were drawn close to her chest, her chin resting on top of them. Flyaway wisps of auburn hair blew across her face as her head turned to gaze at two black body bags on stretchers being loaded into the coroner's van, which was the focus of the cameraman as well. The back doors shut on the bodies and the van drove off. The shot cut back to the reporter who was passing the time by interviewing bystanders. Tears were streaming down Angela's cheeks as she dialed Brennan's number. Hodgins snapped it shut before it could connect.

"You can't. Ange, I'm sorry. Her phone's probably bugged. We can't risk them tracing us." She closed her eyes against a sudden wave of nausea. She could feel Hodgins' hands on her arms and then against her face. His fingers wiped away her tears. "It'll be okay, Ange. We'll be able to go home soon."

"You don't know that. God, what if they kill Brennan too? She's all alone there." Uncontrollable sobs shook her body. Hodgins pulled her to the floor beside him. "She's alone. We all left her." She cried for another thirty minutes, curled up on the floor with Hodgins beside her, trying helplessly to soothe her.

- - - -

_Sunday_

The weather had shifted the night before and the expected rain was falling as snow instead. Brennan took several steps from her car and stopped. It had taken a full five minutes to convince herself to even open the door and ten to get out. From her vantage point, she could see down the sloping hill to a gathering of bundled people in black. Mourning was one of Brennan's least favorite studies. She couldn't bring herself to lecture on the topic. It was just _too_ human. The only real preoccupation in life is death. Mourning was the way that those left behind expressed their sorrow. She simply couldn't capture the complexity and delicacy of that human practice in black and white. Now, she prepared herself to be an active participant in the timeless, innate ritual.

Her feet reluctantly shuffled forward and her deep sigh sent up a faint cloud in front of her. The winding path was lined with headstones, only discernable by the white lumps that rose above the snow on the ground. With her eyes downcast, she followed the swept walkway, trying to delay the moment she would have to confront the smooth wooden casket with the colorful flowers and the American flag draped across. It would make it real. The crying family members, the soft-spoken priest, and the words of memory. Still, she had to do this. She had to act as if he was dead. If he was, then she was showing him the utmost respect in coming to remember. If he wasn't, then it was part of some plan. She only wished, either way, that he had taken her with him. Any death, real or faux, was better than being alive to do this.

When she reached the gravesite, Brennan forced her eyes to rise from the cold shelter of the white snow. Her gaze immediately gravitated to the coffin. It sat quietly beside a six-foot deep rectangle of freshly dug earth. She could smell the moist dirt. A light dusting of snow was beginning to collect on the polished brown wood. Brennan found herself shivering, not from the cold, but from fear. Fear that once he was in the ground, she would forget him. The way he touched her cheek, the way he smiled at her, the way he protected her in spite of her independent defiance. She fought desperately to remember her parents and she'd spent fifteen years with them. Booth had been around for a much shorter time. There hadn't been the time to memorize his every expression and oddity. There never would be time.

The little huddle of people broke apart as one of its members noticed her. Brennan swallowed the lump in her throat as a squat woman with streaks of gray in chin-length brown hair broke from the group. Brennan immediately recognized her as Mrs. Booth. "Are you Dr. Brennan?"

"Yes."

"God bless you, child." To her surprise, the woman reached up and wrapped her short arms around Brennan's neck. She awkwardly returned the hug, not sure of its intent. Shortly, the woman pulled away and Brennan was met with motherly concern in a pair of eyes that resembled her son's. "You have no idea how happy you made him."

"We interacted mostly on the professional level. I don't know…" She trailed off as she deliberately tried to shake off any connections she was feeling. She couldn't make this a reality.

"He told me so many stories about you. You drove him crazy… in a good way." Mrs. Booth dabbed at her eyes with a lace-trimmed handkerchief. The tremble in her voice betrayed her struggle. "He cared for you very much. My Seeley always was a caring spirit." The old woman's face settled into a blank expression as she thought. Brennan was saved from trying to answer by a mittened hand slipping into hers. Looking down, she found everything she was feeling mirrored in that little boy's face. Confusion, hurt, sadness, loneliness, doubt, and a resistance to it all. Then she noticed a curious thing. Parker wasn't really upset. All of those emotions she saw weren't his. His eyes still held a carefree sparkle. He was feeding off of her and supporting her in his infantile way.

"Dr. Bones, I missed you." Brennan pursed her lips and looked at the heavy gray sky. The tears were so close to the surface. She hadn't cried yet and she refused to now. She could only nod at him. "Why are you crying?"

"I'm not." Brennan sniffed and led him to one of the folding chairs. Everyone was beginning to sit down for the priest's words. Rebecca sat on the other side of Parker. Mrs. Booth remained standing, her other son, Jared, supporting her. A flitting curiosity at the absence of Booth's father crossed Brennan's mind.

"You have sad in your eyes." A mitten touched her cheek just below her left eye. The mitten patted her arm. "Daddy's okay. He went to somewhere good."

"Are you talking about heaven?" Brennan stopped herself from elaborating on the roots of the concept of heaven. It was all human psychology, but there was no way that she was going to stop Parker from believing that his father was in such a wonderful place as the mythic heaven.

"No. The angels go to heaven." She furrowed her brow. Parker couldn't possibly be implying that Booth had gone to hell. His whisper caught her attention. "Can you keep a secret?" Brennan nodded.

"Parker, it's time to be quiet." Rebecca straightened the boy in his seat as the priest began. Brennan heard the words and they held meaning, but they were not the comfort that they were intended to be. She wondered the entire time at what Parker was talking about. He was old enough to understand the basic concept of death and to feel the loss, though not totally. Brennan decided that he was confused or that his 'secret' was a product of his childish way of coping with the shock. The priest's words stopped and there was a prayer. Brennan recognized the passage immediately.

"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want." _I want Booth._

"He makes me to lie down in green pastures," _It's snowing._

"He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul." _I'm falling apart._

"He leads me in paths of righteousness for His name's sake." _Booth was the moral one._

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil." _But I _am_ afraid._

"For you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me." _I don't feel it._

"You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup runs over." _You've given me nothing but misery my entire life._

"Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life." _You've taken everything good away from me._

"And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever." _At least Booth will._

The prayer came to an end with a few quiet 'amen's murmured by the Booths and Parker beside her. He kept glancing up at her, obviously still expecting an invitation to divulge his secret. Brennan was impatient to learn what it was so she could either dismiss it or use it. But now wasn't the time. It was the most emotional part of the service, saying goodbye before they put him in the ground to rot.

Mrs. Booth was the first to lay a red rose on the coffin. Rebecca followed, then Jared. Brennan rose from her seat and took a shiny object from her pocket. She stared at it for a moment. It was deformed by the fire and black ash marred the surface. In her heart she wanted to keep it, but she knew it didn't belong to her. The FBI had been his life. Now that his life was gone, it was appropriate that it was buried with him, along with their partnership, friendship and the what-ifs of a stillborn romance.

Brushing away some of the snow, she gently laid the badge on the coffin, right next to a wallet-size of Booth and a blue Cutlass. There he was: breathing, smiling, warm… alive. A tear rolled down her cheek, unnoticed. She took her glove off and placed her hand against the smooth, cool wood. It was the closest to him that she could be before they were separated forever by six feet of dirt and a headstone. She found herself whispering to him.

"Why didn't you wake me up? You know how mad I get when you don't wake me up. Why did you just…" She drew a shuddering breath, the cold air stinging her lungs. "Why didn't you just say goodbye?" Her hand trailed across the surface, not wanting to break contact. As her hand fell from the edge, she stopped. "Thank you, Seeley."

Brennan allowed Mrs. Booth to hug her again before she began up the path back to her car. Parker was by the coffin, his mother holding his hand. She was talking to him about something. Brennan was unlocking her car when she heard her name, or rather a variation of her name.

"Dr. Bones!" Parker was clumsily running through the snow. His clunky snow boots were a little too big and the hood of his coat was falling down over his eyes. "I have to tell you my secret." Brennan moved around the car to meet him halfway. Rebecca was farther down the hill, slowly making her way towards them.

"What is it?" Parker motioned impatiently for her to bend down. When she did, small hands cupped around her ear.

"I saw Daddy last night, but he says it's a secret for me and you so you can't tell anyone." Brennan stopped breathing, making sure that she was hearing his whispers correctly. She knew children dealt with grief differently than adults. Brennan couldn't remember how many times she thought she saw her mother on the street or her father in a store after they disappeared. They were delusions that extended from the intense desire to believe that the loved one was still there.

"Are you sure?" Brennan knew he was sure. In his mind, he actually _had _seen his father.

"He was at my window. It was scary because it was dark and sometimes there are monsters. But it was Daddy so I wasn't scared anymore." It was offered as conclusive evidence, but Brennan wasn't convinced. She wanted to believe it was true. But no matter how hard it was to accept Booth's death, she couldn't abandon rational thought and logic for blind hope. It would only make reality more disappointing when the time came to face it. But, at the same time, her brief glance at the bones that were supposed to be Booth's had planted some doubt in her mind. She was sure that those bones didn't have the scarring that his would. Brennan had dismissed that, though, attributing it to the same thing that Parker was going through now. Besides, there had been an investigation, granted it had been brief. It had been ruled an accident, nothing more. Even to Brennan, without the assistance of Hodgins, the whole thing screamed cover-up. "Dr. Bones?"

"Hmm?" She distractedly turned her gaze back to Parker.

"Daddy says he's sorry." She could feel the hair on the back of her neck raise on end.

"For what?" The words were choked out. Her future hinged on the answer of a five-year-old. His baby-face was serious as he delivered his message.

"For not waking you up."

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What did you think? You know what reviews do for me... they're like Red Bull. 


	18. Superman and his Kryptonite

**A/N: **I know, I _know_. You probably thought I died or something. Sorry for the delay, but my life has been crazy. I'm getting to the end of my senior year, so it's starting to get a little... OK... **very** hectic. But I'm making a tentative promise to have this done before I graduate. That's tentative though. I'll try to get the next chapter out soon now that I have the rest of the plot semi-resolved. If you haven't noticed, I'm slightly detail oriented... so still working out a few details. Hope you like this chapter, though. Happy late Valentine's Day!

If you don't know by now that my beta is rightersblock then you should... go on a quest to find that darned flying kiwi bird.

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"This is not a good idea." The whisper bounced off the walls of Booth's empty apartment. 

"She's at your funeral. We have time."

"I know where she is. You don't have to bring it up." Booth flicked on the flashlight and swept the beam across the room. "So what was it we're supposed to be looking for?"

"The file that you dug up on the Rovettos. Would you please listen the first time I say things?"

"Sorry. I've never been too good at that." The two men began rummaging through things. Booth couldn't recall where he'd put the thing and the fear that Brennan would walk in on them made it even harder to concentrate. He tried to keep his mind off of that possibility. "Are you sure they didn't see us?" Keenan had informed him that his apartment was under surveillance and had been since Brennan's place had been ransacked.

"No, we came in on the opposite side of the building." The flashlight glared in Booth's eyes. He had a suspicion that it was done on purpose. "You need to trust me a little more, Agent Booth."

"You've pissed off the bad guys _and_ the good guys. You're a fugitive from both. You'll forgive me if I'm a little disinclined to trust you."

"Big words." Booth knelt and flicked through one of his partner's many bags. Sometimes he thought she had a different one for each day. Had to be hell on organization, but somehow, being the amazing woman that she was, she managed it.

"Hey, you don't have too much going for you so I wouldn't be talking." Keenan had moved over to the desk in the corner of the living room.

"I think you've proved I'm pretty smart. You said I have all those people chasing me but I'm still a free man. Am I right?" Booth looked up to retort but stopped. The older man was holding a picture in his hand. The glare on the glass made it impossible to see the picture, but Booth knew immediately which one had captured his attention. It was a recent picture of the two of them. Angela had taken it without their knowledge, which made it even better. They had eaten lunch together one day a few weeks before. It had been one of the warm days that kept randomly popping up. They'd eaten at a picnic table and then moved to a bench in the Jeffersonian's extensive gardens. In the picture, Booth's arm was draped casually across the back of the bench. He was leaning over and talking into her ear, with a grin on his face. Her head was tilted slightly back and she was laughing. Booth couldn't remember what he'd said to her, but he wished he could see her like that again. He certainly wasn't helping now by dying. Keenan broke the mutual contemplation by clearly his throat. Booth saw him shake his head and replace the photograph. Booth tried to cover the fact he'd been watching.

"Yeah, you're right. You are pretty smart. I just hope it's enough to get us out of this, preferably alive." Keenan began scouring the bookcases. Booth was getting the impression that he was trying to get a glimpse of his daughter's life rather than search for the file. It was ironic that he was able to get a better idea of her through Booth than he would ever get at her own apartment. Looking around, Booth realized how much he missed her. In a way, it was like he really had died. There hadn't been the opportunity to say goodbye, to hug her, to tell her to hang on a little longer. Just a sudden exit and probably some of the most painful days of her life. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself for that. Even if Parker did come through for him, she still would have believed it for a few days. Keenan abruptly moved away from the bookcase as if awakening from a trance. He snatched up the cushions from the couch with a sudden ferocity.

"Whoa, easy on my couch. We don't usually store things in there." Hard eyes pointed in his direction. "Or you could look there if you want." Being an enigma certainly seemed to be genetic among the Brennans or Keenans or whatever they were. Booth stared at the cushions that were left scattered across the floor as Keenan moved to the bedroom. He left what he was doing and followed his partner's slightly insane father into the place that had been his requiem since Brennan had moved in.

"Is she sleeping with you?" The question caught Booth completely off-guard. His stupor was replaced with an intense desire to defend Brennan's virtue.

"In the literal sense, yes. We haven't…"

"Ahh…" A knowing smile curved across his face. Booth pretended to flip through some papers on the nightstand as he glanced at Keenan questioningly. "Her mother was hard to get too."

"That's not why…"

"Of course not, you're the noble gentleman." Keenan was perusing a stack of files. Booth suspected that the copy they were looking for was there. "I didn't mean that as innuendo, so you can get off your high horse. I was speaking generally. That woman infuriated me every day we were together." He pulled a file from the stack. "But God knows I loved that woman with all my heart." Booth was barely breathing, the other man's heartbroken voice eating at him. Despite his resistance to believe it, Max Keenan had a soul. The papers continued shuffling. "I found it." The hard edge had returned.

"Yeah. Let's get out of here before I decide to stay." Booth practically bolted for the door, but found that Keenan wasn't following. He turned and saw that the man was standing next to the bed, holding a piece of paper in one hand and a small object in the other. The body language told him that this was going to be trouble.

"What is this?" Booth reentered the room and casually took the paper. The creases were worn and it was slightly crumpled, but had obviously been folded carefully every time it was put away. His own handwriting graced the page in the simple words that he had written the morning of his 'death'.

"Well, it's a note, Max."

"Don't be a smartass. This is worn, why would Temperance keep such a trivial note unless it has some sort of meaning."

"I left her a note that morning."

"Do you usually leave notes?"

"No, but…"

"Then she must realize that that morning was different."

"Yeah, it was different. It's not every day that your partner dies." Booth raised his hands in what was meant to be a calming gesture. "I don't think she'd figure everything out because of a one-line note."

"You know better than to dismiss her like that. She's very smart."

"You think?" Keenan's gaze was unrelenting, but Booth refused to flinch.

"Agent Booth, have you had any other contact with Temperance?"

"No."

"Have you given her reason to suspect that you're alive?" It was odd for Booth to be on the receiving end of an intense interrogation. He felt out of place and insecure. Neither feeling was a good fit for a cocky FBI agent.

"No." He mentally cringed as his trained ear could detect the intonation of uncertainty. There was no way Keenan had missed it.

"Don't lie to me." And there it was. "Have you compromised yourself?"

"I didn't tell her." _OK, I did, but not directly so it doesn't count._

"Who did you tell?"

"Parker." It was useless to try and cover it up. Keenan had a mind as sharp as his daughter's and paranoia that rivaled Hodgins'.

"You told your five-year-old son?" Fists clenched at his sides, Keenan crossed the room to stand eye-to-eye with Booth.

"He takes his secrets very seriously."

"You've put him in danger." Booth couldn't stand it any more. He wouldn't sit back complacently and listen to a stranger insult his parenting skills and common sense.

"I did what I felt was necessary. I couldn't allow my son to think that his father had died and then suddenly reappear. Don't you know what that would do to a kid?"

"Yes."

"Oh, right, I forgot. You know exactly what that does because you did it. Twice." The silence was earsplitting. A physical fight was not far from either mind.

"I guess you're a part of the club then. Now you've done it to her too." His eyes must have betrayed him because a moment later, Keenan's expression fell as he studied Booth's reaction to the statement. The disappointment morphed almost instantly to fury. "She knows. You told your son to tell her." Booth's silence was taken as a confession. "Why the hell did you do that?"

"I already told you. She's been abandoned too many times."

"I didn't abandon her. It was for her protection."

"Don't kid yourself. Do you think she felt safe when you didn't come home on Christmas Eve? Or how about when they threw her clothes in a garbage bag and sent her off to a new family?" Booth wasn't quite prepared for Keenan's fist to connect with his jaw. The impact sent him to the floor, but he jumped to his feet again, ready for a fight. _Bring it, old man._

"You don't know what you're talking about." Booth wasn't quite sure where this argument was coming from. He distinctly recalled telling Brennan that he somewhat admired her father. But that was before he'd chained her to a park bench, this time leaving her with the firm belief that she didn't belong in a family.

"Look, I understand where you're coming from. I do. You would do anything to protect your family. I know I would do anything to keep Parker safe." The fierceness in Booth's voice grew as the fire was slowly extinguished in Keenan's eyes. "But what good is it if she's alive and doesn't live her life?"

"Good thing you came around then." Keenan collected the file from the floor where it had fallen during the argument. Tucking it under his arm, he left the bedroom with Booth following closely. He stopped abruptly at the window beside the desk. Booth hated that window. It looked out over the back parking lot. The streetlights cast an unpleasant yellow light into the room and the glare of headlights bounced around at all hours of the night. Parker had smashed the blinds with a soccer ball a few months before and Booth preferred complaining than wasting time fixing them.

"Come on, let's go."

"Sorry, we have to wait a minute." Keenan was peering out the window with an odd expression that reminded Booth of a cat watching a mouse.

"What? Why?" Booth stepped over to the window. Keenan allowed him some space.

"You're about to find out how well you really understand me." It took a moment for Booth's eyes to focus on the scene that was about to erupt. He spotted Brennan's silver sports car parked in one of the empty back rows. She was walking towards the building, digging in her bag, probably looking for the key. Booth could see even from his second-story vantage point that she was tired. Her shoulders were slack and the general confidence that she usually exuded was missing. He hadn't seen her in three days. Booth wanted to study her longer, but his attention was snatched away by a dark sedan that he hadn't noticed before. It was rolling slowly towards her and he immediately knew that she was in trouble. He watched mutely as Brennan cast a glance over her shoulder. She walked a little further and then broke into a run. But it was too late. A hulking shadow jumped from the car and tackled her almost instantly. As Brennan struggled under the man, Booth ripped his eyes from the sight and sprinted for the door.

"Agent Booth, you can't." Keenan had anticipated his reaction and cut him off at the door.

"Get out of the way." The older man only shook his head. Booth tried to see out the window from where he was, but couldn't. His head was pounding as he tried not to imagine Brennan being pummeled. "If you don't move…"

"We have to let this happen."

"He's going to kill her." Booth reached around and tried to grab at the doorknob.

"He will only subdue her. They want her alive to lure me out." Booth couldn't stand it any longer and moved back to the window. He had to know what was happening. A second, smaller man had appeared. Brennan was thrashing about in the large man's grasp. His companion took a square of something out of his pocket and pressed it over her mouth. Booth put his hand to the window as he saw her body tense and her hands close into fists. In about half a minute, she went slack and the men dragged her into the car. It sped away, taking Booth's last opportunity to do anything.

"If something happens to her, I will kill you."

"She'll be okay. This is the only way we can all get out of this. If you hadn't 'died', they would have killed you and then taken her. We'd be in this same situation, but she would have gone to a real funeral today." Booth saw the logic, but he still felt like he'd just betrayed her. He ran a hand through his short hair and absently stared in the direction the car had gone.

"So what now?"

"We wait a day and then I turn myself in to the Rovettos for a trade. If things go south, you're there to save the day."

"Why can't I just get Cullen to call a raid? We know where they operate." Booth remembered his boss's shock at the outlandish request to stage a crash with several bodies from the city morgue.

"They'll take her hostage until you give me up. It won't end happily if you pull a stunt like that."

"You're just going to give yourself up? That's suicide." Booth placed the toy airplane he'd been unconsciously clutching back on the desk.

"Don't be so dramatic. I'll find a way out. I have connections everywhere, even with some of them." There was a pause as Booth sifted through all of the information. Something suddenly occurred to him.

"If you were planning on turning yourself in all along, why didn't you do it sooner? I could still be alive and she wouldn't be with them." Keenan turned his back to him and Booth thought he was seeing the man shrink before his eyes. There was something suddenly vulnerable about him. The Superman front was gone. With this strange reaction, it only took Booth a few seconds to realize his motivation. "You want to save her."

"I don't want her to spend her whole life remembering me as the man who left her and got her mother murdered."

"That's a little selfish, don't you think?"

"I just…" This was his weakness. Booth watched the struggle on his face in the reflection of the window. "Russ gets it. He was older when it happened and he didn't really choose the straight and narrow anyway, you know? I think he's forgiven me in his own way. But Temperance…" Booth let the man talk. He was in another world now. A world of regrets and sorrows in which Booth didn't exist. "She's so different from us. The world is black and white to her and the truth is never blurred. I don't think she'll ever forgive me for what I did, but if I could just show her how much I love her… If she could see that I would do anything, even die for her, maybe she'll at least take that away from it all."

"But you're still planning to live?" Booth's voice must have reminded Keenan of the real world because the criminal once again obliterated the father.

"Oh, of course. It's simply a gesture, you can't really think I would go out that easily."

"No, that would be asking too much." The sarcasm went unmatched and silence fell over them as each man was lost in his own thoughts. Booth couldn't help but have his doubts, though it was too late to do much about them. After a moment, his almost timid voice pleaded for a positive answer. "Just tell me she'll be okay."

"If everything goes according to plan, she'll be completely unharmed."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Agent Booth, she'll be fine." Though the statement was made with confidence, both knew that Brennan was in the hands of some very powerful people. And good plans are always fragile.

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I would love to hear your thoughts. It would confirm my suspicions that I am in fact capable of ESP. 


	19. Broken Bones

**A/N: **So, funny story. I got sick again. And also it's been so nice and springy outside that I've taken the dog to the park every day. Today is a rainy day, so maybe, MAYBE you'll get two chapters this week! I know, I know. Those of you from the beginning are wondering what happened to the posting every day part. Sorry I've fallen down on that.

This chapter was a little bit of a difficult duck. I did a lot of research on the medical jargon, but I was still confused in the end. Please excuse any mistakes.

rightersblock is always the first to read and review. If you still haven't checked out her WIP, White Noise... now is the time. Well, read my chapter first and _then_ is the time.

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Something was soft and warm beneath her. Another heavy something was draped across her body. She rolled lazily onto her back and slowly opened her bleary eyes. A faint headache was vaguely acknowledged. Stretching her arms above her, she surveyed her surroundings, feeling slightly odd about the whole situation. It was a small room. The single bed on which she was pondering was pushed into the corner. Cabinets lined one short wall and a sink stood alone on the opposite. A high window above her allowed a shaded golden glow into the room. It was comfortably warm and she considered going back to sleep. That intention only remained for a moment. 

Brennan wasn't sure which struck her first; the memory of the abduction or the realization that this place, though comfortable, was foreign. She wasn't supposed to be there. Throwing back the thick blanket, she found that she was still in the clothes she'd worn to the funeral. Her shoes were missing. Brennan studied the room more intently, her attention immediately drawn to the window above. The light coming through appeared to be natural light. She wondered how long she'd been under the effects of whatever chemical she'd inhaled. The sun had been going down the last time she was conscious. Thoughts about the time left her feeling disoriented, so she switched to location.

Standing on the bed, she tried to see out the window. Brennan stood on her tiptoes and used the window ledge to pull herself up slightly. Even then, she could barely see. A thin layer of grime was smeared across the glass, but she could still generally make it out. There were lots of large rectangular shapes with tubes sticking up on top. Some of them had dark clouds billowing upward. Running a number of possibilities through her mind, Brennan decided that the most logical location was the industrialized section of D.C.

The scraping of a key in a lock startled her. She jumped down and sat on the edge of the bed just as the door swung open. A young woman slipped through the door while an extremely large man remained in the doorway. Brennan felt that the Rovettos employed far too many of them. The woman was carrying a duffel bag which she now dropped in the middle of the room. She looked benign enough; she was smiling.

"I thought you might like to change your clothes. We got some from your apartment." The slender brunette was soft-spoken. Brennan was thinking that maybe this woman was her way out.

"Thanks." The woman shoved the bag forward with her foot. Brennan leaned forward and placed it beside her on the bed. "How long was I out?"

"All night and morning."

"What time is it?" Small talk was a way to form some sort of bond, she figured.

"Almost three thirty." A knock on the door made the woman smile and turn abruptly. "I have to go for now. I'll be back to get you in a little while." Before Brennan could inquire about where they were going to go, the door opened and the man gestured for the woman to exit. She gave a quick wave before disappearing into the hall. The door was shut and there was silence. Brennan sat motionless for a moment and then turned her attention to the bag. Unzipping it, she found a pair of jeans, a tank top and one of her old college sweatshirts. A pair of Angela's rainbow-striped socks was on the bottom. She kept forgetting to return those after Angela left them at her apartment. Brennan changed and stuffed her dirty, rumpled clothing into the bag. After a fruitless search for a hair band, she settled for running her fingers through her slightly tangled hair. She sat back down on the bed, her colorfully stockinged feet tucked under her. She didn't have to wait long. Within fifteen minutes, the key turned the lock again and the door swept open. This time, the man entered and the woman hung back.

"Get up. We're going now."

"Where are we going?" Brennan made no move to get up.

"You'll see, now get up."

"Can I have some shoes?"

"No. Now let's go; he's waiting." The man stepped towards her but Brennan stood abruptly to avoid his touch.

"I'm coming." The man motioned for her to precede him. There were no handcuffs or restraints. She obeyed, following the woman into the hall. The long strips of fluorescent lighting were abrasive after the sunlit room. Her feet pattered softly on the cold cement floor. They came to the end of the bland hallway and stopped in front of a metal door. The woman swiped a card and the light above turned green. The door buzzed as she pushed it open. The unfiltered sunshine was excruciatingly bright. Brennan hesitated before she stepped out. A gravel expanse was between them and whatever their destination. A shove from behind propelled her forward. She did her best to keep up with the woman, biting her lip at the discomfort.

Finally making it to the building opposite the one they exited, the door was opened on another artificially lit hall. That door banged shut with cold finality. There was a noticeable difference in the atmosphere of this building. Her scientist's nose detected the smell of Clorox. She was led into the first room on the right and pushed in the direction of a metal chair in the center. Then they both left her, the woman looking over her shoulder as she went. Brennan evaluated her surroundings. It was a small room. A few more metal chairs were cast against the wall. An ominous metal cabinet was tucked in the corner. She was fairly sure that she didn't want to know what was in there. The walls and the floor were the same drab gray. A mirror behind her made her wonder if someone was watching.

"Dr. Brennan." Turning to her left, she was just able to see a battered man being half-dragged by the open door as a clean-shaven man in an expensive suit entered. He closed the door swiftly before she could see anything else. "It's nice to meet you. My name is Andre Rovetto." A manicured hand was extended. Brennan turned her head away in disgust.

"Very well, then. I won't take your rudeness personally. It is a rather stressful situation." Rovetto circled her. It was not as intimidating as it was meant to be, as Brennan was thinking he reminded her of an intent housecat. He looked at her feet. "No shoes?" Without waiting for an answer, he stalked to the mirror. "Why doesn't Dr. Brennan have shoes? I'm sure she's very uncomfortable. Get her some shoes!" The reflection in the mirror betrayed a burning anger that was slightly frightening. Almost as soon as he turned his attention back to her, he was calm again.

"I hope you know why you're here. It's your father's fault. Do you blame him?" Brennan carefully kept her expression neutral. There was no way he was going to get inside her head.

"You know you're bitter, even if you won't admit it to me. If you want my opinion, you have every right to be angry. He's a first-class bastard." He paused in his stride as if waiting for her reaction, seemingly unaware that his provocation was falling on deaf ears. "Oh, I almost forgot; my condolences on the death of your partner. I'm sure it's a devastating blow. I was told you were coming from the funeral when my men moved in. What an eventful day. Did his son handle it well?" Her head turned sharply to meet his dark gaze. "I almost took him. Remember the first night you stayed at Agent Booth's? It was right after you were almost killed. My men were supposed to take little Parker then, while you two were doing God knows what in the bedroom. I called it off at the last minute. Wasn't that generous of me?" The door opened and a pair of her old running shoes was placed inside. Rovetto picked them up and tossed them by her chair. Brennan bent down and started putting them on, relieved to have something to concentrate on.

"Do you go running often?" She continued to ignore him. "Dr. Brennan, I advise you to start answering me before I get angry." The slight rise in his voice indicated that this process had already begun. "Do you understand?" Brennan made a show of tying her shoe, even though it was already done. A plan was formulating. She didn't care that she was heavily outnumbered or that she had no idea where she was. "Do you understand?" Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of movement. Rovetto wrapped a murderous hand around her upper arm with a vice-like grip. Almost at the same instant, Brennan bounded from the chair and swung her right fist into his face. The blow drew blood from the soft skin below his eye. Rage contorted his features as he impulsively released her.

She jumped away as the door swung open to reveal the man who had denied her shoes. He filled the entire doorway. His eyes wandered over the situation, obviously assessing and deciding on a course of action. Brennan was patient and waited for him to enter. He was intimidating but clumsy and dull-witted. Taking a few steps toward her, his bulky arms lashed out at her, trying to catch her between them. She ducked and tried to change her position to one closer to the door. The man lunged toward her and knocked her into the wall with amazing force. Brennan thought quickly. She groaned and dramatically allowed her knees to buckle. He took the bait, foolishly thinking that she had actually passed out. Releasing her, he turned away slightly and yelled for an accomplice. Brennan took the opportunity to slam her knee into his groin. A howl of pain was left in her wake.

Rovetto was nowhere in sight. She bolted out the door and headed for the end of the hall. That was when she remembered that she needed a key card to get out. Helplessly banging against the push bar, Brennan tried to remain calm as she heard a multitude of heavy footsteps fast approaching. Preparing herself to be recaptured, Brennan was startled when the door was pulled open from the outside. It was slightly ironic to see the sunlight pouring into the grim hallway, which had undoubtedly seen an excess of tragedy, cruelty and death. But for Brennan, there was no time to philosophize. Barely noting that the young woman from before was standing there on the other side of the door, she brushed past her and sprinted across the gravel lot. There was no telling where she would end up, but she had decided to fight and to run like hell.

The wind in her ears kept her from hearing anything behind her. Brennan was fairly certain that she had a good lead on them. Unfortunately, she didn't account for anyone that might be ahead of her. A short, scruffy man in a mechanic's uniform was just turned the corner of the building when she was. They both fell to the ground with a groan. Brennan instantly regained her footing, but the man was sharp. His gaze ran from her to the six men chasing her and then back again. He lunged for her legs and she fell hard.

"Dr. Brennan, you're a wonderful sprinter. I was sure you ran often." Rovetto was walking a few paces behind his henchmen, dabbing at his cheek with a handkerchief. One of the larger men roughly pushed the mechanic aside and knelt down next to her. He took her left hand into a painful grip, bending it backwards and pulling her up to her knees at the same time. "But I didn't request a demonstration; I was only asking a question." The pressure on her wrist increased. Brennan tried not to squirm. The rocks were digging into her knees. "Next time you will answer me, won't you? Any question I ask, you answer. Now do you understand?" She offered no answer. Brennan refused to be broken by this man. "I can get the little boy, if that will persuade you."

"Go to hell." Stars exploded in front of her eyes as she felt a crack in her wrist. She instinctively cried out at the burning pain that coursed through her entire arm. The air was knocked from her lungs and she took huge, gasping breaths to no avail. The man released her and she sank down, clutching her left wrist close to her body. The swelling was already apparent.

"What happened, Dr. Brennan?" The mocking voice was surreal. Brennan was on the verge of passing out, but was battling it fiercely. She answered through gritted teeth, afraid that more stubbornness would lead to more broken bones.

"He broke my wrist."

"Oh, come now. I thought you were a scientist." The smugness in his demeanor told her that he knew he won this round. There were a few seconds of silence as she tried to concentrate on her injury through the pain it was causing. Breathing was becoming easier, but the slightest movement of her wrist would start it over.

"He probably broke my scaphoid." She paused for another shallow breath. "And my triquetral and possibly the lunate. There is probably damage…" A surge of pain brought her up short and tears burned her eyes. "…to the radiocarpal ligaments from hyperextension. I don't… I don't know what else."

"Sounds painful. Mickey will take you back to your room. It was nice talking to you, Dr. Brennan. I do hope you're more cooperative at our next encounter." The way he spoke the last sentence sent shivers down her spine. Cradling her arm, she was led back to the room, which didn't appear as cheery and comfortable as before. Brennan lay down on the bed immediately and closed her eyes. The door closed with a soft click. She tried not to think of anything. Not her father, not Angela, not Parker and especially not Booth. It was a large task to avoid thinking about any of those things. Before long, the door opened again. Brennan opened her eyes, noticing that the window above her was dark. The pain in her wrist had lessened to a roar in the background.

Turning her head to see her visitor, she was pleased to find the woman. She was carrying a tray, which she placed on the small table beside the door. Brennan sat up gingerly and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Lightheadedness came and then passed.

"Thank you." The woman looked up at her voice. Her eyes darted to the wall as if she was unsure of the situation. She spoke softly.

"I got you some ibuprofen to help with the pain and swelling." Brennan watched as the woman shifted uncomfortably. "I saw what they did to you. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. They're bad men." She had gone a little too far. A small spark of resentment flared in the woman's brown eyes.

"I have to go." Standing, Brennan crossed the room halfway.

"Wait… please."

"I really should be going. I'm not supposed to talk to you." She turned to the door again.

"Please, just help me with my arm." The woman looked back at her, a flicker of sympathy plainly visible. "If I don't take care of it soon, it could cause permanent damage. I need my hands to do my job. Please." Closing her eyes briefly, the woman gave in with a sigh.

"What can I do?"

"It needs to be iced and stabilized."

"We have splints and ace bandages in the infirmary." Before Brennan could say anything else, the woman left without saying whether she would be back. She was nibbling at the dry toast when five minutes later the woman reentered looking slightly frazzled. "I had to take them when no one was looking. They would kill me if they knew I was doing this." The fear on the young woman's face made it clear that the statement was literal. Brennan showed her what to do and she set to work. Deciding that conversation was the best way to distract her from the painful process of stabilizing the injury, Brennan started with the basics.

"What's your name?" The young woman looked up at her as she secured the splint.

"Marie." It was said as if it hadn't been said in a long time. She suddenly looked more like a girl than a woman.

"I'm Temperance." Brennan offered a smile.

"I know." There was an awkward pause. Marie was concentrating intently on the splint.

"What are you doing here?"

"I live here." Brennan tried not to get frustrated at her helper's elusive answer.

"I mean why do you live here? Are you a part of the family?"

"Not really. I'm Andre's stepdaughter." The sadness in her voice vaguely reflected the sense of abandonment that was familiar to Brennan. "My mother was killed three years ago and Andre let me stay here. He took my older brother to live with him. I try not to think about what he might be doing. They bring so many men here. I can't help but wonder how many of them are there because of Alex." Brennan grimaced at the pain in the girl's voice as well as from the pain of the splint tightening around her arm. Marie was slowly gaining confidence as she kept talking.

"How old are you?" Marie was slowly wrapping the bandage, and mumbled her response.

"I'm only twenty-one." The tone of her voice indicated that she knew that she looked older than that. "I was supposed to go to college, but my mom died right before I graduated. I just never left. Now, I know I should have gone. At the time, I didn't think I would end up getting stuck here."

"They don't let you leave?"

"Only to get groceries." The ace bandage was secure and Brennan was watching to make sure it wasn't too tight. Marie was now sitting on her hands and staring into space as she talked. "I mostly cook and clean." She shuddered. "I clean everything. The kitchen, the bathrooms, the interrogation rooms..." Brennan tried to steer the girl away from thinking of the gruesome details.

"Why don't you run away when you go to the grocery store?"

"I don't have anywhere to go." The desperation in Marie's voice made Brennan promise herself that she would do anything she could to help the girl once she got out of this place. After a moment, Marie piped up again. "I heard them say something about a little boy. Is he yours?"

"My partner's."

"Vincent was talking to Danny about how your partner died a few days ago. Is it true?"

"You hear a lot of things."

"Yes." Marie stood from the bed, obviously deciding that she had spent enough time with her step-father's prisoner. "That's how I know that if you get another chance to get away, take it. Don't be afraid. If you don't get away soon, you're never going to leave." Her grave tone startled Brennan and almost made the pain in her arm seem obsolete.

"I don't think…"

"Dr. Brennan, I heard it. They're going to kill you."

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When you reply, the fingers fly.  



	20. Calm Down

Ok, I hope none of you died of excitement when you saw that I added a chapter. This is just to let you know, that if you give me a few days to get back into the Bones universe, you will eventually be reading a real chapter with, you know, characters and suspense and blood and stuff. I wasn't going to finish this story because I changed the plot and the ending so many times that I just got frustrated with the whole thing. So if you give me time to read everything I've already written, you should have another chapter shortly. However, I'm in the middle of job-hunting, so I can't guarantee that the next chapter will be within the week. But expect it no later than the beginning of next week. I really had no intentions of continuing this story but apparently, some of you are dying of suspense. I'm finishing it, so no one die!


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